I wrote a letter about the things I've never had

I wrote a letter about the things I've never had

Last night I woke.

Dazed.

Cold.

Alone.

I could not sleep. 

The moons luminance a lonely piercing.

A deep reminder that I miss her, 

that's all. 

That night, 

the letters that I wrote said:

Queen, 

breathe for me.

This air is not a meal worth having if it isn't shared. 

They said fight fire with fire,

but yours is a warmth I'd rather have to thaw the gripping cold around my shattered heart from previous lies that I've been told. 

These are the things I've never had, 

but want.

So I'd let the wine from last night's drink sit a while, 

but I would not be more sober right then thinking about your intoxicating lips. 

Your wakeless eyes, 

lifting waves inside my heart because like the moon at night, 

they light up the dark,

my pathetic cliche for a broken heart.

Queen, 

I never did dream of an intense happiness, 

because each day, 

I saw it in the depths of your undressing eyes. 

My hands, 

like greedy vines creeping silently towards your wanting light.

I mean the art, 

your body, 

that makes mother earth proud.

See me scream aloud. 

You'll caress my soul, 

your words the pillows that cushion the storms from a struggling life.

Bottomless, 

without you.

I've moved on.

My hands thickly coated red,

because I tore out my heart.

This gaping hole, 

love...that's now dead.

These revelations read aloud,

I spent so much,

or maybe not enough,

but still, nurturing a withered red rose. 

I spent so much, 

waiting.

I hoped.

Poured out my feelings in little prayers,

for words...that you never really said.

06/10/2018✅