Her Lover

There was no moment of silence

No vacant half breathing of poignant momentum

The falling stars could not entice from her heart

Or burden a single second with the simplest ghost of import

The open unwritten pages of her book left devoid of ink-ed blood

She does not ponder on the swirling fogs

It is those dank and drear mist which contemplate her

Darkest expression of nothing

Cold walled the clammy plaster and armour

Iron shovelled and buried deep

Never to dance all for smiles or walk from the island marooned

No spark of life but vacant inspiration

No tears other than those wept long ago

Are now her only memories of sorrow

It is cold now

The words of passion and obsession

Sleep with their talk on her tongue

Her life undone

Love she turned her back upon

Love she walked away with uncaring grace

And a high hand haughty wave

With such a fire in her eyes un-kindled

Un-eternal

And shadow he watched her grey spectre

Of no avail his soul travelling with her

There in the gnawing desolation of possibility

She

Left him

And the only word he could conjure

As if mustered from the folding hands of fog

From a broken and wounded silence

And skewed from his burning throat

“how much did I love you and you never even knew; me”