at some point,
as the coldness grew,
I forgot
how to cry.

in the silence
love withdrew,
I forgot
to ask it why.

at some point,
it always seemed
to matter
then.

at some point,
on a cold and barren day,
I noticed it
had slipped away.

at some point
I no longer felt
loves overwhelming surge.

here, then gone
I wondered when
those two points
did merge.

upon my cheeks
I felt no tears,
I tasted not the salt.

at some point,
when her spirit flew,

things came
to a screeching halt.

at what point
does love

become a small part
of regret?

at what point
do we learn
what we must
forget?

at some point.

with every day passing,
we become less
than the sum
of what we once were.

pieces go missing,
falling down holes,
as we wonder
how this could occur.

it is silence that burns
this hole in the ground.
a hole I’ll fall in
and never be found.

the hole, it is black
and nothing gets out.
not light,
not souls,
not a whimper or shout.

nor the pleadings of men
bemoaning their fate,
for once you fall in
it’s already too late.

black holes.

one for you,
one for me.

we try
to defy

gravity.

holes for the ones
who lived in the quiet,
who knew of love
but were fearful to try it.

some slowly realize
what it is all about,

it is not the falling in
it is the crawling out.

as many times as
I’ve encountered the fall,
I can’t seem to get
the hang of the
crawl

all who follow in your wake
will beg you,
take their heart
to break.

they will know,
with words unspoken,
that indeed
it has been broken.

yet, they will seek
you out once more,
along a strange
and distant shore.

you humble them
with just a glance.

still, they beg you for
another chance

to feel
to feel
to feel

I stayed in bed
I think I froze
the sun somehow
just never rose
it failed to c
me
lying here
I feel abandoned
I wonder where
it could have gone.

I was convinced
it was
the morn,
yet here I lie
adrift, forlorn.
no morning light
to chase my fears,
no comforting sounds
one normally hears.

no warmth,
to greet my day,
it seems my sun
has gone away.

to shine itself
upon your hair,
to lovingly touch
your delicate skin.
to listen as
your laughter flows,
to touch the creases
beside your eyes
when ere you smile.

to count the freckles,
to taste your lips.
to gently brush
against your hips
to seek out places
it never goes,
to know
the world inside your eyes.

so many reasons
for it to rise.

yet here,
in bed
I lie.
prayers unsaid,
the angels sigh.

there are places
I would

never go

and there are things
I would

rather not know

and there are words that
fail to arrive

just when I need them
to keep me alive