I write to you
No more
When you are still
Just who you are
And the night chills
Me from your far
Shoulders.
I think of you
Just barely
Like a book, ill-gotten,
Neither finished
Nor forgotten
A memory diminished
But not vanished.
I speak to you
In silence.
The faded ember
Has burned my hands
The scars remember
The heart understands
What memory won’t render.
You, my usual haven in dream,
Came rushing in after your brood
Speaking sharp words, like breaking sticks
Like shattering my childlike mood.
Now, when I’m already weak
And the thing that lives inside my brain
Crawls and chews and leaves
A tunnel system of pain
Why, when I have stayed loyal
Swimming against the tide,
Why do you stand against me
Withholding kindness already denied
Just to cast me aside?
viewingcamelot 