I felt the cold of insignificance,
where eyes used to meet...

I wonder if she knew. . .
That it felt like being tortured...

I walked in the woods today,
through the bronze and golden leaves...

When ravens met upon the roof
And started singing to the night...

I'd have wished upon a star
if I thought it'd help...

There's something
in the finality of it...

She sighed in prose
And wept in silence...

I thought I knew Hell,
Although I really...

Heavy hearts
are truthful ones...

They were cooking,
for their parents and children...

Bleeding sonnets written in
Latin, a narwhal breaking...

I sat by the wishing well
tossing coins from my soul...