"Lonely is something I am accustom to, not something I desire to be, but have learned to accept." -the wolf

In the way
Only the wolf can
Soft cries
I bared my soul
Shed tears
Whispered dreams
Fed fears
To the black widow
Of cold night
Lifetimes
Of alone
Rolled into
A half smile
Of hope
A sliver
Of moon
Perhaps
One day
Soon
The rooster
Will crow a tune
Of love
Ill wake up
From this nightmare
Of hollow
Bones
No longer vacant
Of wamrth
But curiously
Touched
By the fingers
Of a wanderer
Who saw it fit
To curl breath
between
The spaces
To make my empty
A home

©achosenword