It wasn’t that he drank of her that bothered him,
But that he drank so deeply.
Knowing “Full Well” the glass belonged to another.

That he was human and that he fell to a more savage instinct. That night he understood his humanity and it scared him.

As she lay in his arms he could feel her savoring the last moments of elation. But there was a distant sadness.

It was as though she knew what she’d return to. And that scared her.

...But such is our relationship with destiny. She smiles and offers tales of honor and glory if you are courageous. Immense wealth if you are clever, and stability with peace for hard work and honesty. Should you show love, she may even grant you life in the form of children. Take from her what you will, for eventually she will betray you for death. Every single time... For that is whom she is truly in love with.

...Yet I still have visions of
Death and his father,

Disconsolate and privy
The tears of his mother

His love for her deep but
No one should know,
For her burden is heavy,
And her shoulders are low

6 billion,
7 billion,
she rotates all the more...

And yet I still have these visions
Of death and his father,

Furrowing along space without
Sister nor brother,
Sitting by his feet gaining his wisdom
Like fodder

The unenviable task,
Despised by all,
Such a burden to bear
Such a levy to toll...

In the third eye of symmetry
Never mind the strings of beauty (words)
If the outcome is poetry

Artistry

So long as man dreams

Never mind hymns of danger
If you're moving on heroically

Such is a poets causality.

He knows not the construct of words from ordinary men. They lack structure, rhyme and purpose. They are the ramblings of those who can not see,
Those who cannot feel
And those...
Those he cannot be.

She asked me why my song is so sad and beautiful
I told her it's because there's
Broken glass on the strings I play

But I play anyway...

From solstice to solstice,
Equinox at the door.
From doorstep to doorstep,
the moon is in awe.

Bless the naive heart that knows not the invention of a woman's manipulation.
For it glows in the darkness of desperation...

Tears from stars
Caught in the cloud's Palm
Under the guise of rain
Precipitate to the hearts of the earth,
And through love sprouts the seed of
Man.

Every night the actor's lover sleeps with
A stranger.

Falling in and out of love,
Her hunger for danger.

Beneath her guilty garments,
virtue dies its natural death,
Imprisoned by curiosity
sated only by infinity...
               The cycle at its birth

Every day the lover's actor lives
A different life,

Someone less in full control, she could never love. Those flavors of men she adores,
carefully selected to suit her appetite's role.

Beneath pretentious cloaks and masks,
Enslaved by his own creation,
His own invention,
His Frankenstein stands perfectly still
In her eyes... As she opens the door.

The Dimensions
     of her heart.

The circumference
       of her soul...

Vision
Compromised

by age.

Form still possessed
by

ignorant beauty

Life's but a dream
and
the

stars.

The Dreamer's pillows.

This Seal
upon your lips

Now heart
it cannot

speak

How far must our planets splay
before they collide once more?
The stars in their cruel malevolence
mock our decor.
The galaxy is of our love, pregnant with envy.
Why would you, universe, allow such tapestry?

The touch of the rain without reason to blame
turns to ice on the shores of my slumber.
Like an effigy ruminating disconsolately i lay,
Never mind all the tears in the rain of my thunder.

My heart does not race yet it beats at a canter
It states with impunity,
with neither remorse nor regret as it seeks out our unity.
Of sonorous design if only it was,
it would emancipate me...
The real me, of composure's repose,

I miss you, i love you...
They cannot compare,
To this mind they cannot express
and shan't even dare

Oh! those stars!
If i could i would make them stare,
I would go the distance and make them care,
for i'd make them witness a fusion so rare.
What they could not limit,
what they could not mimic.
For our love, t'would bring our worlds together
behold them cataclysmic.

Your voice resonates in the depths of my mind,
It awakens my soul and is paid back in kind,
A jubilant audience without schedule nor time,
without vision nor feeling, nor scent to remind,
my heart of this feeling i seek in rewind,
Pensive at a distance this place thats in him,
yet pillars your voice doth ***** now within.

Tormented by the walls of this room,
Alone in bed imagining your thoughts,  
pretentious fortitude from sorrow's groom,
Guilts' symphony invokes her stream of haunting notes,
I was wrong...

Apologies are spoken memories gone wrong,
Their acceptance behind every patient smile,
Ushers them to oblivion,
But the words to speak turn to concrete when your number I dial
I'm sorry...

I am just a lover, though my story is seldom told,
I squandered your trust for a box full of empty promises,
But the best of our memories kept me warm in the cold,
That and the sound of your voice became my fortresses,
Forgive me...

These words that you'll construe,
Tie tether to the soul of my heart,
Where your kiss grew trees that your light shines through,

I have,  I still, and I will always love you...