I often wonder,



when I look at you,



if Galileo felt the same way



when he looked at the stars.

The sky was a cold gray, and the fog settled in,
and Raindrops came gently to rest on my skin.
The cold whispered sweetly,
"she's slipping again,
this time all the way."

My mind rattled loudly as the snowfall began.
Trying desperately to ground myself and remember where I am,
but your voice cracked like thunder above me again,
saying,"I'm sorry I just can't stay."

I knew then you were gone, as I saw a flash of your face.
I hope you went peacefully, with no pain, and with haste,
though I felt this cold world become a colder place
without the warmth of you in it.

But a song in my head roared out my anger,
because I knew if I'd been there you'd have seen me a stranger,
But I wanted to go! I wanted to thank her!
I was just too scared to commit.

I didn't want you to go, though through my frustration,
when offered to go see you, I felt hesitation.
I couldn't be there because of my situation,
and you had forgotten my name.

Do you remember my name? Does my voice ring a bell?
Do you know it's me talking? When I speak, can you tell?
Thinking about it now, the tears start to swell,
because I hoped for what never came.

But I expect now you know what happened between us.
Your death has hurt me a lot but it freed us.
Now there is nothing left to impede us,
other than my own heartbeat.

As you wait for me there, in the Kingdom of Heaven,
I won't forget who you were, nor what you have given.
As for me, I know fully well I'm forgiven,
and the idea of your peace is sweet.

And remember that Red "x" I drew when I was just 2?
Well I drew a Green one today in my sketchbook just for you.
Because I couldn’t figure out what else I should do,
on this mournful January day.

So the sky is a cold gray, as the fog settles in,
and soon Raindrops will come gently rest on my skin.
And the cold tells me sweetly,
"She flew again,
this time all the way."

I must have been a Star graced on the pale
and amber Sky against sharp edged Giants,
the way you searched for wings behind me.

A black strip of lace I was, but less frail,
I broke through the loudness and gifted you silence.
Though no Halo was rest on my crown,
You laid yours beside me.

Hark I did try, though the clouds are all that spoke.
I cradled you then, skin soft as bread.
Leaning over like grass in the wind
And planting Daisies on your breast.

Tempest came fast and the sunlight awoke,
opening the wound from its rising, and bled.
It gave an orange and firey tinge,
but the Blood was warm as it spilled over the crest.

Passionately, I held you stark.
The Thorns wrapped around your head and heels
but the River flowed down the Cliffs so steep,
to drown the Thorns in reverence.

And soon your eyes arose from the Dark.
I pulled your chin with my finger to watch you reveal,
and I noticed the Thorns had buried deep
and I worried what served as their consequence.

I could have questioned the Shepherd that rest on the peak,
"what bothers your black woolen Lambs?"
Knowledge so flooded and thought all fragmented,
I kept the silence floating where words could have been.

So we settled in the grove of a like-minded freak,
Glued horns on the Ovis so they looked like Rams,
Made sure the air was a sweet Rose and Wood scented,
And awaited the Sun to burn the mountains again.