It's a poet's inclination. The urge to abandon this domestication and be the gentle beast of the woods. To see curiosity and amazement in the eyes of creatures for once. To have my muse climb trees. To fetch water from roaring streams. I have been civil in my suffering. Now I want to suffer from unusual ailments.
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There isn't much of me that can love. But it is all that is left, and I promise to love you with my remnants.
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My love was a dream
So fulfilling that after it
All reality could give
Fell short
And nothing in this empty world
Could ever hold
The serendipity
Of my humble dissociation
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Pardon me
My heart aches tonight
With recklessness
Your, mine, combined
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Stills don't honour
The beauty you hold
The moon knows this best
Every moment she owns the sky
She waxes and she crests
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I want to be like the tides, gentle and roaring. I would try to kiss the moon in one blink and come crashing down in another. But I am not that free. I am this little plant that seeps and stays. My smile depends upon the skies. Even if I hate to admit it, the winter solstice makes me long for warm lights.
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If there is an afterlife
I will spend it
Finding a love letter
In those eulogies
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I am him
Because like Antonio
'In sooth I know not why I am sad.'
I am weary till I am distraught,
Though my sunken ships never see the shore.
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I am tired of seeing you in my dreams. I don't want to walk through this memory with the ghost of you again. To see you smile, to see us back underneath the summer sun, is agony. To recall my name, from broken pitches of your last remembered voice, is agony. With that said, again I will wait for you in my dreams tonight.
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Almost and always
She tempts me
To be as cold as her
Winter, in all her beauty
Haunts me too
As she slowly dies with the dew
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I hope it never escapes, the longing to call you today. I will hold it in my heart and let it decay, with the rest of me. Ah! Sure I will not forget you, do not fathom that I regret you. Know this, even if untold, I will see you in every spring leaf turned gold.
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