Untying myself,
rewiring my mind
after I've been
burning to keep
this sundered form
from disbelieving.

We wanted what
we never revisited,
choosing instead
to seek silence
under a moon,
under the sun
during noon.

Hope has died,
after trembling hands
have clutched a number
of faded roses.

Both of us,
both invisible,
neither beautiful,
were once waiting
near a window
stained with time.

What is there
to return to,
once we have
said our farewell
to the last teardrop?
The teardrops
that have formed
rivers to follow.

What else is there
to live for, while we
are far too busy
removing the dagger
from our hearts?

I call her close,
relieving her, at a dose
of simple words,
uttered from a face,
one she cannot
rewrite nor retrace.

I want her to remember
genuine warmth,
when I place a single hand
on her heart, one that beats
in constant fear,
while the other hand
wipes aside her tears.

She'll drift back into
those uncovered shadows,
while I remember
her light, her canvas,
what color she'll desert
in greater favor for hurt.

At last, being seen
before a moon's gleam,
surrounding me
in all I've ever believed.

What beauty before me,
drowning a night in an aura.
Will you remain even after
the final kiss touches down?

You are the promise I've held
close to a heart I've cradled,
being the water for my
thirsty throat, the light for my
tearful eyes in the dark.

You cannot perish.
You cannot go, even after
I've let your flesh flutter
into morning's colors,
even when your scent
stays in such cold.

For I would suffer
when I will remember
your lips, your smooth,
unscarred hands.

To cherish you,
to nourish your memory
will mean to provide
a promise to the wind.

Don't go. Do not die,
while your heart still beats.
For I'll remember it
answering my yearning
during an evening's
dwelling sunset.

I'll be awaiting
your presence in this
bedroom of shadows.
I'll await it, while I
forever believe in fate's
kindness to us.

What gets brought back
is a shower of hope,
trickling over resplendence
down our aching backs.

We never believed in it
for long enough,
while we were drying
our vacant eyes.

Everything matches
in these dark hallways.
All of it withers,
while we go on,
with burning fingers
leaving piles of dust
on abandoned highways.

Whispering comes,
leaving needless destinations
for our feet to find
when we are always
crying on the shoulders,
where the temptations
decide where we
want to hide.

Love blows
in different directions
its sterile seeds,
raising nothing more than
husks to create more of
those familiar shadows.

For we will be
always yearning to
discover what we
were not meant to believe,
remaining lost on a highway
that never upkeeps speed.

Wanting saviors
to dispel the same whispers
we both turned our attention to,
dividing our forms down,
from the head
to our aching gut.

Whispering will cease,
after we've recognized that this
was never a treasure to kiss.
We believed in miracles
when all we received
are the same scraps
to feed desperate hearts.

I've often receded
with these tears, back into
shadows of past moments,
digging into scars,
redrawing the wounds,
lifting a heaving chest
to drag it back down
with the setting sun.

Coming into your light
had been a forged destiny,
but I'll never know
what I ever meant,
when arms are broken,
being unable to fix
what is lost.

When I said to you
I'll never float apart
from your once-yearning
distant heart,
I felt it in the call
of birds in the trees,
as I allowed myself
to walk forward,
even if it led me
over the edge.

Here I am
to drink in stillness,
to remember you
in your frozen state.
I released a hand,
as you are at peace,
as I am here
to let go of a petal
for your cemented,
sealed place.

I've built a raft,
waiting for the stars
to come out from
a universe that breathes
emptiness over this
nameless ocean.

I've been watching
the letters become one
intoxicating promise,
while I've searched
for resolve,
under the doubt.