The dying man gets

married, the ring binds his name --


to the newborn child.

You face the window
I face the door
back to back
not speaking
hardly touching
no loving arms to say goodnight
no loving lips to greet the morning
the only thing we do together
is sleep

Tears fall onto my cheeks
I’m used to that
The illness has taken my soul
Broken pieces
I want to go back to him
But it was better for me to go
To be alone
So now I think of the happiness he brought
But it was too much when I was Ill
If it mattered he would have found a way
But he never did
So I sit here and think about us
But I see it’s just a memory

The bride: a present

in tulle, the veil that reveals --


her love all the more.

Knock, and it shall be opened unto you,
    If you, indeed, are true.
If so, the Bridegroom's door will open wide
    To let His guest inside.

Knock, but beware if true, indeed, you're not;
    For not one tittle or jot
Shall pass the Lion guarding, at attention,
    The door to God's dimension.  
He'll bounce you off the doorstep with a roar
    Like none you've heard before.

I am not who I was
My mind and my body that were once separated
Are finally, finally stitching themselves together
It will take time and a lot of silk
But I will put in the effort
To become whole again

Patience, fate
Trees and treasures of kind
The tale of inclined sate
Has a sunny disposition, as if time

Care for a threshold of dissuasion another day?
Real regret, is the purpose behind our musings
Anger and delves of uniqueness, are to begin with may
A choice of shoulders, save itself for what patience looses...

Salt, is a final run to safety, a hug in the wind?
Curious speed, the irony of candor, to exist
Bred upon balance and the common, the tone of a new voice
That was a care, the towardness of you, an embarrassed list...

With no man's land, came the wish of potential
Sulking and denoted to be, the vice of remembering
The otherwise certain specific, the tongue of quintessential
Looks of responsibility for a question to guidance, sometimes humbling...

Will you marry me?
Places of blossoms, and the callous through and due, today
Of a quiet simplicity, for the anecdote of when boding is anarchy
Isn't a world of itself, the only reason a challenged voice, was anyway?

Persist and pout
The devil and the deed of the bluesy's...
Right to contain and contemplate another good intent, shout
Upon a caring rainbow found in the mere, all more, and me...

How does it feel
To never really know the real you?
Looking in the mirror
Without any sort of recognition
Blank stares and soulless eyes
Who have you become?
You look right through me
As if I am only a speck of dust
Floating down to the ground
While you have found yourself
Through other people
I have lost myself
To the one I thought loved me the most
It’s a tragic love story
Of boy meets girl