a southerly breeze
danced around the elm trees
teasing their leaves

My hands shake and thoughts clash
I revise life, like flashbacks
I won't last living in my past
Pull back, snapping leash he attacks

The scent is strong he's on the prowl
A predator of beings foul
Revenge dished he's hellbound
Took a vow as hellhound

His loyalty holds no borders
He's borderline disobeying orders
He's ordered but he ignores
Okami, a lone wolf

In midnight his eyes shine
Blood red it contains skies
He's hunting down a worthy prize
Defending honour he can't die

Vengeance and fuelled rage
Powerful and untamed
For too long he's been caged
He suffered so, debts be repaid

With head high and hackles raised
He's raising hell, his endgame
All cards held have been played
Run and hide, its too late

Her heart was like the eye of a needle and I the thread.
Stuck between *******, each time I'd get close.
I'd veer too far left or too far right, never in-between.
Nervous in motion A thin thread roped in ambition.
Though I loved her deeply I couldn't get her to see.
No matter how hard I'd try I always missed the loop to her heart.
The cold steel that looped in oval shape.
I've made peace with the thought that nothing lasts forever and though thread.
I've binded myself in knots, wondering if she ever saw me the way that I saw her, everlasting.
Believing that we could be woven in the thickest of bonds.
I loved her with the entirety of my everything I had to give.
Without arms I had nothing to hold above her head.
But no matter how many times I missed her.
Her shoulder became colder and colder.
My thread torn seam from seam.
It wasn't until then that I learned that somethings are better left untouched.

I wake up on my sofa after
Work, knowing she needs

Workman's hands to hold
Hammer and nail at

Points she's chosen for her
Pictures.

A stronger back for heavier
Things, but I'm spent. Work is

War, now. Power drill, pistol.
I bark orders at privates,

Not warnings at young, spiteful
Carpenters

Fresh from school
With too

Much product in their
Hair to want to wear their

Mandatory
Hard hats.

My heart skips beats when I
Lift. I count falling stars

At daytime climbing stairs.
Lie to concerned foremen.

A brain-soul-body Bermuda
Triangle of energies lost.

I have love to last her lifetimes,
Shoulders to rest her weary,

Closed eyes against or dig her
Fingernails into, gasping.

But for now, the ceiling I gaze
Up at stares back down judgingly,

Not recognizing this frowning
Ghost of the mud-covered grin I

Carried a few, short years ago.
The futile clawing and sliding of

A minuscule man climbing a
Colossal statue of himself.