I stand before the early morning light;
squinting to see the hope
promised on the horizon.

Shadows from the pillars of salt
behind me; a multitude of errors
seeking my attention.

All the fallen stars buried
beneath the wasted wishes;
their tombs unmarked and broken
by good intentions.

The black rose I carried tightly
within my palm has died from the suffocation;
I’m afraid to let it go,
hoping it can be resuscitated.

The stench of stubbornness on my flesh;
our hands no longer touching, our lips
no longer tasting the moments.

Always and forever...
etched in loneliness.