Through whispered words and silent sighs,
We built a world beneath the skies.
We fought, we hurt, we drifted far,
But still, you shined like a distant star.
No matter the battles, no matter the pain,
Your nearness was where my heart remained.

In moments of silence, we found our space,
In each other’s eyes, a familiar place.
Though words may fail, and time may flee,
Just being near you was enough for me.

Now in my dreams, you softly appear,
A presence that brings both joy and fear.
We reach for words we can’t quite say,
But your warmth stays, in every way.

I carry you with me, not in regret,
But in the love we shared, the things unmet.
No matter the distance, no matter the years,
You’ll always be close, in my heart, my fears.

They laughed when he showed up
with a résumé in hand.
Tail tucked, horns sanded down,
wore a tie, shook hands.

“I used to tempt kings,
whispered wars into ears.
Now I scroll headlines
and choke back tears.”

He tried marketing
but humans were better
at selling lies with smiling teeth
and discount codes for sin.

He applied for politics
but found the position filled
by those who make devils
blush in admiration.

Tried tech
but algorithms already knew
how to addict, divide,
and hollow out souls
with precision.

Even in war,
they no longer need whispers.
They bomb hospitals
and call it strategy.
He offered corruption.
They offered quarterly targets.

“They don’t need me anymore,”
he sighed to the clerk.
“They’ve mastered the craft.
I was just a spark
They made it an industry.”

Now he wanders,
CV in flames,
hoping someone will want
a washed-up fallen angel
who simply can’t compete
with modern man.

I used to think blue eyes were pretty,
his were not.
his were not cornflower, sapphire, baby, indigo, azure,
or cloudy sky blue.
His were midnight where the light pollution from the city blocks the stars.
Iceberg, squall, hypothermia, eventual death

Affixed to the Lee–Enfield,
this blade, this trigger point,
stricken by ambush,
enters the melee
along the false edge,
cuts to the core,
like sympathizers of
William of Orange.

There are no daggers
apart from war,
just an ocean of
death and defeat,
its water,
its ever rising water,
swallows us whole.