a storm of smoke and flame
released by a violent, eldritch heart
ripped away from all I know
I watch the ashen rain
and the charred grey plumes
which tower over us
then nothing remains
by God.

Does he dream of me the same way I do?
Does he fall asleep pretending I'm in his arms too?

Am I ******, alone in my wanting?

My imagination is the only place he's mine, so I go back
Will I have his hand in mine, looking to the horizon?
Will he sink into my eyes the way I want to drown in him?
Will he decorate me with flowers the way I dress my heart with him?

I don't even know what my favorite flower is
If he asked, what would I say?

I've never needed an answer before

hope coiled like a serpent around my neck
suffocating, like the smoke that fell from your fire,
burning away everything that stood here

but I kneel in the blackened soil
and rub charcoal and ash in the webbing
between my fingers—where yours once rested

appeased, she slackens, falling from my shoulders
as though dead, before slithering into the night,
beckoning—to follow her farther into the wasteland

I find my footsteps falling in her path
though she asks only one thing of me—to believe
to ration my reason, starve off my doubt

I protest with silence, but hope is a dangerous thing,
and knows that despite her, I will always return—
and never with a sword

one strike of that blackened match
and a million chromatic threads unwound
leaving only an ashen husk,
my timeless vessel

as I step into this expanse
wild, roaring ocean and fields of sand
a breath enters and escapes me;
I find that my ghosts are falling behind

I found myself, but I suppose it's time to do it alone
I'll weave my melancholy into my tapestry of prose
And I'll raft through the storm ahead without you

if I can make only one request
would you dream of me?

the jade of my heart
an ever drifting sea of emerald
a soft summer breeze across
golden sands

november earth
and december snow
seasons of idyllia

stars adrift
shifting and searching, all for
a single rose buried
in a venemous cage

the wind began to warble,
and so the blackbird whispered
"my heart is not a weapon
and my love is not a game"

was there even a sound?
tumbling to the earth
landing awash in our sins

we fell like the last rain
bookending a bone-deep chill
something to cling to, the pain
washed out from the windowsill

can you see the sunset over the hill?
grass long forgotten, now only a pile of bones

and the stars hang over this church of ours
do you remember their names?

you are the eye
of the storm that

I watch and stare
and follow in

desperation
to live again

and I am the
wind that circles

around you I
empower you

but you don't look
or acknowledge

me you just keep
standing there and

be carried by
the hurricane.

Every time I have wallowed in my tears,
Every time I have drowned in my grief,
Every time I have loved and lost,
I remind myself—
It has been worse, and I have made it this far
I have made it this far
So that I can see through to better days

How many times
have I stood on this precipice
and turned away?

---

I think I'll give myself to the open sea
Throw my arms out wide, breathe
I haven't lived in so long

the shadow of that dagger
still hovers behind me
waiting, aiming to strike

one, two, three, or more
and then it's dark
bones taking root on the floor
then, a spark—
a little flicker, just enough
then bound in starlight

things are rough
but I'm gonna be alright

tell me a lie.
tell me I'm beautiful
even if I'm not.

tell me a lie.
tell me you care
even if you don't.

tell me a lie.
tell me they chiseled the world in gold
even if it was stone for us.

tell me a lie.
tell me everything's fine
even if the world is burning down.

my heartstrings were woven delicately,
soft and sweet, every pluck and tug
dedicated to some passion, conviction,
and the last, to soul-crushing devotion

We bear the scars of fires

long burned out

And pray to ignite our own

to cast revenge upon the first