The sky was illuminated
by the lasting memory of a
thousand fallen suns; when
days fell to night, and lives
were created, then perished,
as an everlasting circle, left
bound in the remains of the
unbroken – with yours and
my silhouettes cast inside a
frame of memories created
and then destroyed, rising
into the gold dusted sky by
the love of a thousand stars
as the only constant of life.
I was holding you still
as time catapulted from
underneath our feet, as a
foreshadowing memory
of what we stood to lose;
the details still dangling
by the threads as we are
rocketed forward, arms
stretched out, grabbing as
many loose strings as we
could, cherishing our life
as those threads unraveled
in our grasp – we remember
what we have lost, and from
there, all that we have gained.
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.
Hidden behind the shadows
where the night and sun meet,
past the lightly traced outline
of the horizon, where the eyes
play tricks of love and deceit,
are the fallen dreams we had
laid to rest, nestled inside the
buried limits we could not see;
where once dreams had been
kissed twice by daylight on the
horizon, growing in vibrancy,
are now forgotten by the fall of
dusk, left in withered remains,
bounded, begging to be set free.
The weight of my world
bared the absence of three
days of life, nestled in the
crook of my shoulders and
left with a weight I could
not carry – three days over,
yet three days weaker with
the constant absence rooted
into my skin, tainted with a
marking left to represent my
pride, as though absence had
become my savior and I was
only weakened by the weight
of a world I no longer knew.
With the gentle call of
moonlight and music
filling the sky with the
lures of love and life,
nestled in the aftermath
of a lovers embrace, we
took to a dance beneath
the stars, lost inside the
steps we hadn’t learned,
yet always sung along to;
one and two, then three
and four, always waiting
forever more – tangled
inside the rhythms of a
moonlight sonata, lost in
a dance still being written.
With a shallowed breath,
I whispered all my truths
into the night, where the
stars gleamed in a delicate
anticipation, holding onto
my fears and dreams as I
took to the moon, hoping
for guidance with a loving
embrace, searching for an
outcome beyond tattered
remains of a hallowed self;
I was within and without,
tethered to the night by the
ropes of honesty, bound to
the idea of an embrace in
which I could never receive.
The days fell to gray,
darkened by the turn
of winter’s kiss, where
the snow was meant to
fall as soft blankets of
white, creating visions
of a lovers wonderland,
hand in hand with the
night; yet the snow was
left shaken in a refusal
to fall, leaving an earth
left to gray, cold hearted
and bleak, with only the
falling of lovers to weep.
I will chase you into tomorrow
as midnight falls onto a lonely
hour, where words are falling
like change onto the pavements,
with the whispers of newly cast
resolutions echoing against the
alleyways bound to be lost by
sunrise – I will follow you into
the new year, where memories
are disregarded as unnecessary
change, and change is viewed as
successfully winning the lottery;
it’s the realm of new possibilities
or perhaps just any other day, but
no matter what happens, I’ll still
be by your side, come what may.
I crashed into sleep last night,
tumbling down a nightmare of
a rabbit hole, where love was
obsolete and solace was sought
after like a sacred form of drug,
mythical and scarce, as though
I wasn’t accustomed to comfort
inside my lover’s arms- I broke
by the minute, reaching out for
an arm to hold, only continuing
to fall further in a delusional and
obscure hell, where I was both a
ringmaster and victim, bound by
my subconscious, searching for
the remains of my piloted dream.
Storylines in Verse 