Where the End Begins

 This is where the end begins;

When I let my pen spill ink of what I truly think
Of you, of us, of everything.
Apocalyptic, cathartic yet gentle winds
That do whisper of us to the universe;
And it must know, the purity, the mess,
These ancient texts of who we are, who we were.

Memory-Morgue

 

Cold it is down here in the morgue
Of all my memories long gone by
With nothing left but their clouded image
Deep within in my mind.

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I was born holding my father's dying hand
Knew early on that the dead don't wake
Not after the wake
Nor after daybreak
Though day after day I did believe
Through the clouds of grey
He did look down upon me

The Dying Day

 Spring blooms change

And births life anew
Or so the poets say
But spring this year
Came to take my breath away
 For day by day
 Death suddenly came

Oh, Sinister Night

 

Like all great poets,

I too write of loves

long gone by;

of their fading traces

along my skin –

seldom touched,

seldom loved.

clouds upon the blue skies

 

You are beautiful,

much like the passing of time;

your sweetness bold, like summer's sunlight,

your soul, a treasure greater than life.

You will transcend this world

and all it encapsulates within

How Beautiful You Are

 How beautiful you are under this light,

Your hair like silk upon my pillow,

Skin soft, lips like velvet –

Breathless, like I never thought I would be.

The Softness Never Ends

 How strange a fate that you know not

Of the ways your existence affects me;

How my Moon orbits your Earth

Yet somehow you are the Sun.

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 I used to cry at night

When I was a child

And I thought 

You were watching 

With your heavenly eyes