I once put my heart in the hands of a shallowed shadow man. Never again... The ways I love, oh so shackled in fairy tale chains. Comes in caresses of the small minded; like us utterly deranged. Yet, I'm scatting poetry against the pale moonlight. Elbow deep in turmoil without much insight. Weaving loss where god inked his famed. Where angels and demons all dress the same. Trivial me, to wish upon a dying star. Trying me, in dying arms. The ways I leave, oh so un-traced and incomplete. Rendered in sighs of what it is to be broken; this epiphany so blood soaked. Now I cradle chaotic chants inside. Weaved with weary whispers of old flame drops, in a mourning lifetime... “Silence was a priceless gift.” -HMG