Living in reverse,
rewriting our love
in careless verse,
denying all that died
in between sacred seconds
we were able to cry.

I want us to crawl
back to that hole
all our shadows
ever put us.

Even if all we do
is lie to the sun,
become blind to light,
perhaps the darkness,
just the darkness
understands us.

A space had opened,
as your feet were brought
down into an expanse,
of murderous, cold water.

What can I do
other than watch
your form, going under
both rapids and wilderness?
I had begun to bury
a heart into a plot
of protected earth.

I had begun to conceal
painful memories,
drawn beautifully.

I had begun to flee
where our storms
were gathering.

You were always wanting
to pull that plug
to recreate the darkness,
all while we might
seek a different source
of mystical light.

To feathers, inside of
pillows with their
depressions, from heads
worrying on the next
flawed second,
even in dreams.

To a lightness, I may
find a place where peace
rides on a horse,
towards a sunrise.

Love tore me open
to those sounds,
emitted from her throat.
Love cleaned wounds,
though left scars
as countless as stars.

I just wanted her to breathe.

I just wanted her to see
that such a weight needn't be
what she needs to
drag to another sunset.

If she could ever
raise her gentle head,
she would have seen
it was instead a sunrise.

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.