i've been hard to see
an endless haze, in purgatory
with tendency for revery, and sickness

i've been hard to hold
my safe space, a vacuum
sanctuary for a fool

not the things i called you:
winter morning, shy of light,
stoic menace, block of ice

(you) flake of gold, fallen so far
what right have i to pick your parts?
no judge would cross a morning star so lovely

not your blood i saw run cold
sweet, brilliant dawn-breaker
take the peace i bargain for
what's least is now my most