The ice has broken between you and me,
I have reached out, I am waiting for thee,
the Bad blood that churns between,
Story of horror that entails in mean.
Time that shadows the time spent,
a moment of fragility that we repent.
Shunned by the silence,
ruined by the storm,
my soul has been broken from the call.
My life that once,
was a bird of prey,
has diminished, been reduced to an endless crawl.
Scrawling furiously on the canvas,
I wreak havoc upon the cloth,
that once covered your serene face,
the face which I now see in haze,
and in dreams so dreary,
which wake me at night,
I still see that pain,
that burning, that fright.
Remain I still shrouded in my words,
They once were few, now come in herds.
I live in the cocoon of my body,
in a lie I lie,
among thorns I thrive,
with a smile I cry.
Today, fear that once filled my soul,
escapes in a cloud,
standing beneath a shroud,
is my love, My life,
is worthy of her return,
This path of life not worthy of our sojourn.
So long I mourned, burst out I shone,
a lone my soul, of yours a clone.
My mate of soul, take my hand,
rekindle the magic we once planned,
the soul of my mate, no longer a tool of malice,
of me you’re Helen, of you I’m Paris.
Suburban Wordsmith 