I had not felt the gentle
stroke of a pen between
my fingers in an almost
near cycle of the moon,
back when I was trying
to capture your beauty
in lyrical rhythms from
my heart, to have and to
hold, as though I could
actually cage part of you;
I had failed words when I
failed you – left to gravel
between the ink stains for
my final second chance at
a happy ending with you.