Each flake that falls upon the ground
Carries a sort of air
It falls from heaven, and dances around
It lands upon my hair

Covered now,  in fairy dust
I must sing a new song
Not one of love or lust
But I want you to play along

When the snow has stop falling
I step back inside
I hear the trumpet calling
And know I must abide

I do as it commands
Like the voices in my head.
She knows I’ll understand
She knows I’m hanging by a thread

My body feels numb
But not from the cold
That feeling had never come.
This is a feeling I’d often hold

Each second on the clock seems to take longer
I know my time is coming
I hear it getting stronger,
The sound of distant drumming

The frail hand that keeps my time
Is coming to a close
For I start to hear the chime
An end to all my happiness, but also my sorrow and woes.

As a pale phantom with a lamp
Ascends some ruin’s hainted stair,
So glides the moon along the damp
Mysterious chambers of the air.

Now hidden in cloud, and now revealed,
As if this phantom, full of pain,
Were by the crumbling walls concealed,
And at the windows seen again.

Until at last, serene and proud
In all the splendor of her light,
She walks the terraces of cloud,
Supreme as Empress of the Night.

I look, but recognize no more
Objects familiar to my view;
The very pathway to my door
Is an enchanted avenue.

All things are changed. One mass of shade,
The elm-trees drop their curtains down;
By palace, park, and colonnade
I walk as in a foreign town.

The very ground beneath my feet
Is clothed with a diviner air;
While marble paves the silent street
And glimmers in the empty square.

Illusion! Underneath there lies
The common life of every day;
Only the spirit glorifies
With its own tints the sober gray.

In vain we look, in vain uplift
Our eyes to heaven, if we are blind;
We see but what we have the gift
Of seeing; what we bring we find.

Hazel eyes decorated by light lashes,
Your soul burrowed within,
I glance at passive eyes,
Afraid of what I cannot find,
I brush your lashes with *******,
So I may see you,
I brush your eyes with quivering lips,
So I may kiss your soul,
But you remain distant.

I want to reach you,
To see your soul for its entirety,
But I cannot excite your stoic eyes,
So I decide to remove my gaze,
From your hazel irises.

thrown into new understandings
given earth beneath my feet
taking what love I encounter
falling harder
never faster
I grow from unbridled, invasive flowers
seeking uncontrollable laughter
escaping the soulless sorrow
I am wild, free
but still broken

Finding a living is so hard,
so difficult to sustain
without a reason to sustain it.
Beyond personal dreams
and a need for greed.

An ocean of eyes follow me
through the working day
until I crave isolation.
Only to stumble into
my blank-walled retreat
and realise what isolation really means.

What happened to our potential love?
I cannot read your last letter,
too scared to hear
that you hold a happiness
that bears absolutely
no reliance on me.

You found our distance
lost its charm. You have him,
with his immediacy
and a history to draw upon,
to justify.
I am a teenage folly,
left in the scrap of old photographs
and even older emotion.

A disused, defunct muscle
left to atrophy
as you find your comfort
and your way in life.
But you are a stray, a stray
with the desire
to be led astray;
with the want for a longing.

You know I can fill your days with poetry,
your bed with flame,
your winters with heat.