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Broadsky Jul 2021
I'm hurting

the random waft of your cologne makes me feel like I'm going crazy

because you aren't here

pushing the elevator button to the 7th floor to watch the sunset

together

one

last

time.

because what goes up

must therefore come down

and honey,

we're crashing

at a million miles an hour
August 2020
On this warm spring day,
The light peers in my window,
Quiet as it can,
Asking questions of shadows:
"Do these walls have ears?
And what does the clock-face see?
Is the lamp lonely,
And does the pillow know tears?"
The shadows answer,
In their sweetest honeyed voice,
"We gave the walls ears,
And the clock has our blank face.
The lamp loves the dark,
Just as the pillow drinks tears.
Won't you come deeper,
Deeper into our shadows,
And hear what we know?"
Will the light claim its homeland,
Burning up the dark
And swallowing the night whole,
Or will it shrink back,
Afraid to see the hard truth
That my shadows breathe
And the darkness grows deeper
Fated to hold the sleeper?
From May 2017
Tired and weary,
Torn and worn;
Wrung with wights,
Thick with thorns.
Written Sept 2014

— The End —