Penitence

In the vast and open night,
you've cut open these old wounds of mine.
Unconsciounable fear makes you weep,
as blood soaks the yellowed floors.

Have you heard what I said?
Does this act make you whole?
Torn from my lips and casted against me,
you do not seem to hear.

The morrow will bring a plea,
of unneeded words of consolation.
Though it remains my retribution
to keep my blood soaked fingers on your lips,
to stave the sorrow and the remorse,
of acts done in unkind.

Malice gives heed to your moods,
dearest cold-minded love,
as you sink softly into your penance,
of sweetly whispered words

Breaking the Silence

It is hard to write this,
but there are things that have to be said.
In waning hours I wrote this,
since tonight this remains an empty bed.

I cannot sleep,
I cannot eat,
I cannot function, so it seems.

Things are tied upon my tongue,
Things I'd rather have undone.

These are not your words I speak,
These are the choices that I seek.

I cannot hear it anymore,
I cannot see you as before.
I cannot function, so it seems.

Your image has dissolved before me,
Your face no longer holds it's truth.
Your lips no longer spill it's love,
Your words seem bitter and unproved.

It's hard to write this,
for there are things that need to be said.
In the waning hours I wrote this,
for tonight it seems, I've an empty bed

Poem; again

dredging up some old poems to post here;

Twilight

It's twilight
the morning before you leave
I'm waiting,
for the words expected of me.

Forget this,
as skin touches skin again.
Remember now,
when hearts beat a joyful sound.

Would you?
Tell them all to go.
Could I?
Believe it lasted more.

Troubled thoughts,
forgotten in passions bliss.
All broken,
as sunlight strikes the kiss.

Twilight,
the morning before you leave