when the broken breaks
does it matter
the number of pieces
would you consider 
when broken fall
to pick up
or leave shattered
left for someone else
to put in the bin 
break me if you must
i was already pieces
make more if you must
grind me down to sand
with it i'll make glass
and craft you a mirror
look back at yourself
and hope 
it doesn't shatter. 



did i reveal
too soon,
when whispered words
unto the moon?
was i out of turn,
when confessed
my breast did burn?
promethean fire
you lit in me;
your whisper stopped
the cacophony
of voices
droning in negation.
tried to hold
the word at bay,
when time was
longer spent.
save it for
another day,
not to wonder
if words were meant.
i could hold
my voice no more,
for fear you leave
my somber shore,
and i awake
and you no more,
my sweet lenore
to ever mourn.


to love the night

to love you is 
to love the night,
i cannot put 
my arms around,
in darkness still 
you hold me.
world away 
or quarter day,
mountains left
to climb.