Deep in thought regards herself
But beyond the glass
Dreams slip away for she’s allowed
Too much time to pass.

Their holy grails no longer rest
On distant ledges high
They were sampled long ago
But still her mouth is dry.

Life is such a precious thing.
Her counterpart agrees.
Stop holding on to yesterday.
Stop always making peace.

The dreams stamped out will be revived!
The steady breaths inhaled.
An epilogue of clarity,
A new crusade unveiled.

i am a beautiful bout of starts and sky
compiled into a confounded heart, left
reasonless in the dark so many times

hold me gently, like you promise now, when
we finally form a union, beautiful motion
scrubbing off the dirt and rinsing off my feet

hear me, my tired soul
hear me

forgiving the unkind parts of me
and respecting my needs,
recognizing the demon’s sins
seeing my ardent potential
chaining up my loose lead mind
promising a golden future for no one else
but me

We're just getting started.

Okay?
Yes. Okay

My gut is in knots;
I feel agitated.
From space jumps? It’s not.
It’s more complicated...

Aboard our starship,
glances we’re stealing.
More than a friendship –
this simple feeling.

My question isn't
When do I start?
But rather
When do I end?

The sound of the ending cue.
It’s colored in a grey hue.

No battle left to bellow.
Footsteps that use to echo.

Words that have already been spoke.
All that tears that have already soaked.

A surrender to the closing.
No longer are we apposing.

A welcome to the end.
There is nothing left to mend.

There is no middle ground
This taking sides again

It's Adam or Eve
She, deceived
He, the willful one

Once naked
Now ashamed
And misconnected

Within an
Inauguration of leaves

Sleeping upon
Thorns and thistles

The genetic defect their own
To carry forth
Children of sin and death

In the shadow
Of something now
Unattainable

It was never
About appetite

It was always
About sovereignty

I always thought of spring as a new beginning;
the start of something new or
the rebirthing of the fallen,
like flowers in bloom after the dead, cold winter

It's what you've always wanted—those cold
winter months are nothing but a buffer to you
and I, the unwitting victim, thought I could
ever be enough for you

But I'm no flower, I'm no spring
I'm not a beginning or a rebirth—
I am death, I am winter
I am the end and the endless void

I'm the buffer you only ever wanted to cling to
until the cold subsides, until you can
come back to your old life—
in my wake, there won't be a drop of tear