It was you.
You whom drew the blood of the universe and held it in your hand.
Painstakingly slicing glass across your wrist.

The affinity of terror.
Tears shining in the moonlight.
A heart shielded by memorials of the lost.

Archaism of culture.
Granting you the gift of hope.
Your spirit cries out for the truth, only to be given doubtful beliefs.

In your darkest times, I am your light.
Absolute and sincere.
The epitome of content.

In the light of freedom, I am your foreshadow.
Cynical and cruel
Binding your wings to keep you close.

Fly free with all your love.
Above me, away strong eagle.
Stay high, maybe in time.
You'll want to be mine.

This is a portrait of abandoment:
rusty spokes, faulty breaks, and negligent owners.

(I'm still lying on the sidewalk too, waiting for a reason to shift gears.)

Two abandoned swings . . .
that said ,
that be between
the moon's shadows ,
are only shadow thin
as close as skin on skin
Just swing and swing holding hands
Holding moonlight's shadowed twin

Empty angels dance
upon the thunderhead,
skip amongst the ******,
laugh amongst the dead,
twirl along the river Styx
to abandon those they've led.

its just
                            a matter of time
                                  before you        
                                      abandon me,
                                           too.

And if I can abandon compassion and if I can abandon hope, would it make me less human? Would it make me a ghost?

I'm trying to reconcile the difference between the things in my head: the inconceivable anger and the thoughts about death.

And this brutish indifference and that bitter betrayal. The loves long forgotten and how that same love always failed.

And I can picture your reaction; how you wouldn't even react at all. Because when you left here,
you left me.

and it gets harder to breathe when the only thing keeping                                                            
me alive is an hallucination of
your fingertips that trace patterns
down my spine
when i awake to find coldness
by my side, embracing me
with its trendils that should have been your
arms. so i heave a sigh as i
try to live with dead weight limbs that
drag me down, and it gets
harder when i search the crowds
for your face, knowing that i'd never
catch the slightest glimpse of my safe haven again
and i try (unsuccessfully) to soothe the stinging
wound of knowing that you left
without saying goodbye.

If I could write you a letter, it would be a mile long
And I would fill it with everything I meant to say
Every love note I had saved for a later date combined into one
Because that later date came all too soon and your love has expired and I need you to know these things:
i. I love you. I love you with every fiber and nerve and cell in my
   bruised and scarred body, and nothing will change the longing I have
   for the comfort of your arms.
ii. I regret nothing. And you know what I'm talking about, and I'm  
    telling you now that I regret nothing. I was loved and I would not
    change a thing. You set me free.
iii. You are human. You will royally **** up just like everyone else.
     That's okay. You don't have to save everyone. Save yourself.
vi. No matter what, I care.

teeth sunk into the flesh
of a lover,
white dress, pure.

crimson, like roses,
like blood
both intoxicating;
sweet, sickly

eyes blazing,
like fire.
raging with hatred
that fills the heart of
a broken down soul

the promises that were made,
abandoned, like the lover
you left at the alter  

                                                        ­      ( “i do” , as love spews,                                                     with blood
                                                           ­           out of the wounds
                                                          ­    that your hands claw at)