Wrapped in love and filled with tenderness you were more than any dream I could have conjured.
I would have held you until the end of time,
but time came and snatched you away,
now I spend my nights holding loneliness clutching at your memory.
Coldness most foul grips me now filling me at all times hidden from the view of others,
its corruption seeps in through the cracks.
You can see it in the eyes of other that get to close,
they may not spot it but you can see the understanding of wrongness written across her face.
The men of old could swallow this and turn into stones then hang it like armor from around the neck.
The ever-pounding waves of weakness assaults the senses with each step,
every minute;
it ebbs and flows with days and weeks as placid as a looking glass but ready to change in an instant back to the torrent smashing at the rocks.
The fate of Icarus is the plight of us all,
a sunrise was never meant to last the whole day through.
You keep it in a box in your pocket and take it out to look at in the dark,
like a fading star it lives in half-life’s,
its systematic dimming pronouncing the eventuality of one day winking out.
Encroaching fear to be left in the darkness once more with its hard rhythmic drum beat,
the empty scream dies in the throat with only the passing strangers wearing masks of confusion that try and stoke a long forgotten fire,
with no wood to burn the heat turns back on you leaving long blisters hidden from the eye but strapped across the soul.
Each bite turns sour in the mouth,
you can tell all by the fruit corruption touches all as it spreads from the root.
Pain should be burned down to its foundation then filled over with hard cement to hold the beasts at bay.
Each day peals away from the one befour leaving nothing in its wake,
the cold emptiness to great you each morning with the hope to great the dawn without the dark and grisly thoughts.
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