the page;

It was a dark and gloomy winter, overcast and tinged with grey.
Bitter winds cut at my frostbitten fingers on every given day.
Each day was spent in the lonely cold, with no sign of shelter in sight.
I wondered why God had left me to suffer this winter’s wicked blight.

It was almost as though I had been left to suffer in the frozen lakes of hell.
There was no escape; my eyes glazed over as they did prickle and swell.
At the end of each day, the sun would fade as though it was time to for it die.
My skin hardened like stone tinged blue; in the pale snow I did lie.

With shallow breaths, I breathed in and out as time had its way with me.
Entombed beneath a bed of snow and ice, I found I had not the strength to break free.
Trapped alone with my thoughts and myself, I found no escape to be found
In misery, I felt I would die here alone as I listened to my heart slowly pound. 

Time went by where my spirit did flag, but God had been kind to me.
He sent me an angel in the form of a man that was all I needed him to be.
Out on a leisurely stroll, passing by, he saw me and set me free.
It was a casual kindness he easily shared; he saw my suffering and heard my plea.

And just like that, grey clouds went away, and bitter winds were dispelled.
Winter storms that destroyed all in their way were silenced and were quelled.
Rays of sunlight poured in streams through the sky, bright and golden as he.
It is because of him that light can be found in the ending to this story.

Through him, these eyes twinkled and shined with the brightest of lights. 
I knew what it was to have been freed from cruelty’s blight.
Where golden skies do shine, I have lived to know smiles and mirth.
It is a grace to know benevolence from a tender soul full of worth.

He brought with him magic and radiance, bringing light to this dark day.
He brought comfort and reassurance, taking away all of my dismay.
The benevolence he shares is angelic in nature, and equal in parity.
He saved my spirit and my soul with his simple act of sincerity.

In this lonely confusion, I find that I wander.
I search to find no trace of what once was before.
In distance, I find that the heart grows somber.
Loneliness rings wordlessly at my core.

I listen out for an echo of their remnants.
I hear naught but the sound of solitude.
Implacable lives this sense of dependence.
In the absence of familiarity, I live to brood.

Bound to a beginning and an end;
Time shared was more than a gift.
Fated to disappear around the bend;
In their passing, perspectives shift.

Misery loves company, so it is said.
In my misery, they were mine.
My lonesome heart feels filled with lead.
Moments once shared did shine.

Parting is such a sorrow.
There is more bitter to it than sweet.
I will wake up to face the morrow;
Alone and incomplete.

I sit by myself in my room, where I find myself quite alone.
The passage of time looms ahead; I face it with a heart of stone.
In the many years that have since passed, solitude has only grown.
Whether kinship would last or fade away is something time has shown.

Every day, smiling faces shine bright but are empty of heart for me.
Some days, these faces share love and care — the sentiment is given free.
Sometimes, I cannot help but to bask; shared warmth is all I can see.
On some days, I am less alone and it is a blessing to be.

Other times, I wonder if shared connection can really last.
In my experience, good times often become left behind in the past.
People come into your life and fade away quickly and all too fast.
Kindness is a brief solace away from the cruel spell time can cast.

Faced with vicissitudes that periled me in the torrential currents of fate,
I came to find the perspective that hindsight could provide came much too late.
If only something that was built to last were something I could learn to create.
When things fall apart, sorrow persists and cannot bring itself to abate.

When I leave this place, will I depart from this loneliness, or will I return?
I pray to return to days filled with light, for in darkness, my soul’s plea does burn.
When my time comes, I hope that I am not met with souls of spurn.
If not in this life, I hope — in death — kinship is something I can learn.

Alone with the soft echo of my silent plight, I find no peace in my solitude.
In lonely days and quiet nights, downcast sentiments cannot help but to brood.
I retreat into darkness, though I long for the light — oh, how I long to belong.
I would fall head-first into love were it easy, but were it so, something would be wrong.

My heart beats its love, but when its echoes fade, I wonder if it ever made a sound.
My soul bleeds its affections, but when it only stains, all I can see is the blood on the ground.
I meet another with my body on a funeral pyre, and I light myself up with this spark.
Wasted emotions tear away at the shreds of my spirit like a hungering beast in the dark.

Reflecting on this disheartening hope, premature hurt courses through my veins.
They come, but one day, they inevitably leave, and these sunny days fall prey to rain.
Clear, blue skies become dark and overcast; as the skies do, so do I.
Bright smiles wash away and I am left with these pithy tears I do cry.

Cruel disinterest shows me that my hopes were nought but a delusional sham.
I find myself begging to love and be loved, in humiliation and all that I am.
There is only so much that I will take before I take my leave and part.
But for now, I resign myself to blunt indifference and the course time seeks to chart.

Knowing you brings me warmth, though you leave me in unending cold.
With my cards laid bare, I see none of yours; I cannot help but to fold.
You come and go like the winds of time; you part without a word.
Your languid indifference reverberates; in this silence, it does not go unheard.

Your closeness to me terrifies; you are my viper’s nest.
With fangs that long for the taste of my flesh, you rip into this chest.
Like a lion in the den of my heart, you entreat to devour my soul.
To live as prey to your predator, time has deigned to be my role.

Trapped in cycles of hurt and scorn in your presence, I live to know fear.
You have come to nest within my heart; I cannot help but to have you near.
I want to know your heart and soul, but you are sharp to the touch.
I reach out for you, pricking my fingers; poison-laced edges infuse me as such.

Despite the pain of your lonely company, I still did hope you would leave me freed.
Yet you never fail to wound me so; I cannot help but to bleed.
In your lack of insight, hindsight, and foresight, you hurt me more than you know.
In understanding, I learn to know your heart; only closer to you do I grow.

His fingers strummed upon a harp where the threads of my heart lay strung.
His song made the oceans within my soul quietly ebb and flow.
His harmony brought me euphoric heights, as well as a crushing low.
In cruel beauty, he left me breathless, ripping the air out from each lung.
As he strummed on my heartstrings, my spirits indeed had sung.
Held close to his chest, we moved step in step for longer than I could know.
The bliss he brought forged a bond inspired; indelibly, soulfully so.
But his tune morphed, disconcertingly so; to be his eventually stung.

His song grew to crescendo – he would not stop – more roughly, his strums would grow.
Reverie’s harmony grew into cacophony where vicious melodies would not stop flowing.
The violence with which he struck at my heartstrings, one by one, dealt fatal blows.
With so many replacements at his hand, it mattered not that my heartstrings were breaking.
They had not the strength to live through his song; I only wish I did know.
How transient our love would be, in our final piece: ‘Destruction in the Making.”

in the breadth of yesterday,
hope knew birth in the breaking dawn.

hope lived to know a day in the sun.
at the peak of midday,
the day was halfway done.
the sun later came to rest;
the life of hope could only do the same.
light did shine, come to fade,
as did the spark in her eyes.

she looks to the sky in longing
hoping to steal more than a glance
but the hope of a light that did shine
from within and without.

to steal the light of hope
where it lived fated to be robbed
in the setting of the sun
where time had decreed
the day of hope was done.

she contemplated what hope did bring
oh, how it’s loss did sting
and yet she drifted close towards remembrance
in the cold light of the moon
in transmuted sunlight manifest
the light of hope reflected upon her face
she wore its soft embrace in a silken sheen
permeated in closeness to her skin
the quality of hope had changed
she wore its ghost,
unashamed.

there were no more days in the sun.

today, I know grief.

I once caught sight of a lustrous rose, glowing with radiance like that of a gem.
It burned with the red of the lifeblood we know, infusing its sweetness in the air.
I beheld the sight, and took it into my senses; such beauty was seldom found, and rare.
Knowing such beauty could only last for so long, I resisted and snapped not its stem.
The flowering bloom was surrounded by many a kin, yet it set itself apart from them.
It outshined them all by a devastating degree, easily and without a care.
I feared strongly so, for I knew that time would be quick to set up a snare.
Death would come slowly, if it was not swift – for all, it would come for them.

I came back a time later only to find that the precious bloom did fall.
Its withered petals burned with the reddish-brown of my lifeblood, as did I.
And still, this blossom remains immortalised in my heart, which felt its call.
I hold the image of this beautiful rose in my mind, and I still do sigh.
I shed many a tear, for I know its will to live gave the gift of life its all.
Bittersweet is this sharpened sorrow; the grace it fell with left a mark so fine.