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.

Revolve around
three-dimensions.
Admire her
while she sounds,
when she spills
sighs from varnished,
abandoned lips.

Two steps
is all it ever takes
to turn intimidation
into presentation.
Letting arms
be her branches,
crossing about
layer after layer
of milk-white flesh.

When I write,
shrouded in silence,
I have been merged
in surrounding white.
I have sunken
this form of mine
in pages, for surrender
to be how I remember.

Losing time,
not wishing for recovery
when it will stop this heart
from chasing a different,
absent beat.

An hour hand
holds the minute hand,
severing itself into pieces,
while the second hand
reveals moments I have stolen,
under a solid blue sky.