The Splinter

In my dreams,
a chateau took form.
Native to what was to come
my fingers
cast the arsonist
as its masterpiece.
Long suffering did not know
the pucker of a vanishing tongue
for I was the hearer of illusion
kissing nightmares under creaky doorways.
Unburdened, I once danced
to expected love's return.
As sweet camouflage played,
the attending antiquity
was born in walls.
Applauding mirrors mesmerize imitations
in such a way, that the enduring flair
of an outsider carries sanity to the flame.
How eerie it is to find myself
emptied by wisdom,
sitting alone as reflection paints anew.
Intimacy must know my stories to touch
my treasured forbidden pulse.
Can't I paraphrase the finale of my loathing
that you might know enough?

Here lay the ruins from embezzled love
and yet look at how magnificent it all is.
The crumbling walls will illuminate
what’s caged and
fallen
and the splinter
will dream of its depart.

She is lovely

Into the deep forests,
the baritone winds
has had their time.
The yore of ailments
glows, as the admonished
walk through, searching.
She is like many of us.
A transient
whose slumber travails.
Sedating,
what is to come
she awakens
again
caressing the void’s
that haunt her.
I know how she feels.
Sweet idles of solace
has enamored my Cri de coeur.
In the mist,
the sojourners epilogue is
approaching.
What good is a drifter whose
accession traces a hollow journey?
Heeding to bliss,
she rouses
to what is dead.
Guided inwardly,
the wilted flower
will have her bloom.
She is lovely.

Knowing

Venture with me to where the uncaged
takeon an immortal oath
where mysterious suitors
have drafted their mirage unto time.
Savoir faire fathomed my bliss
and the foolish sang sonnet’s of decay
and time can not define me as inopportune
for unrequited love has not archived this soul.
I'm able to cross the seas of transgressions
to unearth a guidepost
where even prose can not dignify
this trance of knowing.