There are only
so many pieces...
You still linger,
Right between the shadows of the folding moon...
This isn't
a poem about you...
Arachnids crawl across a pulsing mind
Preventing sanity an earnest dream...
Sometimes being 'strong'
Means having the courage to ask for help...
Her small face rested on my arms,
for I have approached her broken part...
Your warmth
was like the melodious whispers of a harp...
You were beauty, magic, and everything I yearned...
I found myself at your feet...
As I sit here in the darkness
I can feel it consuming me...
I’ve lost what I couldn’t hold
hoping its return...
She struggles to lower
Her fickle anchor against Life’s...
+ + + + + +
+ R.I.P...