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