Miscellaneous Poems: Ink Spills

Part Six

Wolves cry
Sullen ripples
Sorrow echos
Into the void
Amplified
The stars mourn too
The silver droplets
Of moonlit tears
The moon she dies
To the flame licked blade
The blazing warrior
Raises dawn

—

The crowds would have flesh. Will you cut it yourself from your own arm, or have somebody else to be cut down to feed their lusts?

—

Lift the wine up to trembling lips
This cup of gold and blood
The tears stream down and screams ring out
The chalice slowly empties
Rusted hopes rise up anew
Battered dreams take wing
Broken, bloody, scarred, and mauled
But the fight is just beginning
Hear the wolves cry to the night
Your fangs are so much sharper
Bleary eyes cut across the room
No sleep for them tonight

—

Through every bitter end
Each so sadly sweet
Just come and hold my hand
I will walk with thee

Each pace for step
And breath for beat
As we walk along
This lonely street

—

The stars sing your name
They tell me you're flawless
As they dance 'round the moon
In a reflection of your grace

The moon flowers bloom
Looking up to the sky
To see your face painted in the dark
So they glow brighter still

—

Every day the sun would rise anew
Every night I cried my loss for you
Every day the sun didn't fail to rise
Every night I waited here for you

—

Where have you gone 
I wanted to go to you
Tell me why I couldn't follow you
I searched the sky
Looking for traces of you
Why then have I failed to find you now

—

My Shadow

He follows me, not quite seen, not quite forgotten. Sometimes his hands brush mine whenever I trace my fingers over a wall, whenever I tap a rhythm out on a desk. I think he is the one who leaves the roses, those scarlet, thorny buds. I once found seven in the hall. They were beautiful, though one was covered in blood, I think. Perhaps he cut himself on it. His eyes would be inky, the darkest shade of an abyss. I wish I could see them, just once.

—

It doesn't matter in the end. Which army won, or who was crowned, or what land belonged to which country. The curse of flesh and blood is to never live in peace. The curse of heart and soul is to wish to.