Alone

It Feels More Than It Really Is,

Desolate abandoment
The void left by, taught through
The faces I would turn towards
And truest love I knew;

Yet away from me, unhappily
Or indifferent, themselves have turned
Fixed, never to meet within my gaze
My life or their cautionary tale, decerned

Falling in love with many a friend
From very early on
Where nothing matters like they do,
No matter that they've gone.

No matter that the majority
And best parts of our live's real years,
Are spent relapsing in their memory,
As their aura disappears.

It Really Is More Than It Feels

Alone

Winter sunrise on my last and longest day,

wrap me in a winding sheet of flaming orange

take the reds and pinks from midnight blue to make my shroud

let me rest in heaven fire

drown my tired soul in colour

drinking the final carnival

warmth for my bones,

a funeral of skies and wonders

She was like music,
and I longed to dance.

Her heart was the beat,
and I begged for the chance.

Her words were the vocals,
and I was put in a trance.

Her smile was the melody,
and I fell in love at first glance.