It's distain apart from vain,
To spill and for it to not soak,
Drowned have I my words,
In a well to no revoke,
No one to cry for the eyes that face reluctance to tear,
Aloof,
The burden of my existence I bear.

I recall the day I first saw you, amid the frigid depths of winter, as I sought even a trace of warmth from the sun. My gaze found that warmth in you. When you drew near, you stunned me, clasping my cold hands in yours, imbuing them with warmth. I remember, too, the day I waited in that same chill for one final glimpse of you—only to be left, forsaken, my hands still cold, yearning for the warmth you once brought.

This lovely phase,
This lovely self-
Inflicted pain?

The lovely minutes
Of the deepest dread
As a lovely song
Removes my head.

A lovely day
Chopped up in parts
Of the ignorance
Of a lonely heart
That cannot have
The lovely harp
That once begged for its love so readily.
And when it stopped,
The silence fell heavily.

I waited for the boy in you
To become a man that was true
Until my bones started rusting
Until my soul stopped trusting.

I died for your arrival
I died for the survival
Of a love we both promised
You left me be uncherished.

you used to sit on me and swing  
cry and swing  
laugh and swing  
tell me of your dreams and fears  
and love,  
as we slipped back and forth  
through the air  
hung from the strong branches  
of our tree  

the ground beneath me  
well worn dirt, surrounded by grass  
The evidence of our days  
and hours  
carving out the earth together  

I am still here,  
tethered to this tree and waiting  
the ground beneath me  
growing greener and more empty  

sometimes you will come  
and sit on me again  
and swing,  
the beauty of purpose  
flooding through me for a moment  

but now when you swing  
it is mostly quiet  
like you are here but I am not  
you do not speak to me,  
do not dig in your heels and toes  
scrape the dirt and push off-
the ground beneath me  
forgets your feet as soon as you are gone  

and I am still here,  
tethered to this tree and waiting  
the ground beneath me  
growing green and empty

Their freedom granted by bifurcation
Roots severed from the family tree
They mourned the living, in brief
Discarded the wither and blight

Shed no tears to the fallen branches
The stench of phantosmia remains
Spring can't mask the memories
The wretched guilt shows no bark

The sap leaks through each season
The moss where blossom should be
Old wounds cast in the amber
Preserved for the life of the tree

Half dressed in a dawn chorus
Juxtaposed by muted decay
A lowly woodpecker knocks
Broken by a solitary shrill.

By Darren Wall ©

They shed no tears as the bridges burned
A lingering stench of phantosmia remains
No pouncet box can mask the memories
Their shame leaks through guilty pores

By Darren Wall ©

I see you there, looking for me.
I see you; do you see me?
I see you distrusting yourself.
I see you and all your doubt.

I see you much better than you do.
I see through the you in the rearview.
I see you there out in the desert.
I see you and your trembling heart.

I see true and love you still.
I see you and always will.
I love you more than anyone else.
I love you more than you love yourself.  

I see you.
I see through.
I see true.
I love you.