Humbled Disposition Of A Shattered Self-Reflection Poem by Wes Thompson

I play with word and smiles,
and hearts- though not tonight.
less than a clean escape,
I'd call it art, not within sight.

steps carefully measured,
with my Heart at the length,
of gold-shackled sleeves-
resolute in lost strength.

reversed, yet likened true-
renounce not my chain,
which binds me together,
blood I cannot contain.

She placed 'round my neck,
a jar that vessels good word-
though frozen in jade:
'Love turns in the chest as a sword.'

on my lips, Hers remain-
as I drown in the skies,
speechlessly reflected-
Her ancient ruins of eyes.

as dreams manifest-
in vain they will revel,
She weeps just like Heaven-
I kiss like the Devil.

thirst whispers to candles,
light eloquence, hollow-
the moon is too dim,
blind is the path I must follow.

I furnish disgust on the Shadows,
of those who inherit a soul.
the Fourth Horseman shows mercy-
His scythe swallows hearts whole!

they all crumble like sand-
memories- left in tangle,
birthed through the jaws of a Wolf,
nibbling the wings of an Angel.

what once was a child,
has beguiled no fate-
bare chested and bullet-proof,
dare not hesitate.

Kiss discomposure's red lips,
stab Regret in the face-
Live with but a smile,
Leave with serene grace.

forgiveness beckons monsters,
reclaiming waves who crash on me-
screaming to their abrupt end,
'Reassurance rests at sea! '