you used to write stories
to tell the world how you felt
twined with pictures fitting.
...
So,
here I sit,
wondering upon all these things
as tears fall down my cheeks
...
god came to me in a dream
he told me of the wonders in heaven
and horrors in hell
...
she steps aside among feathered wings
and in her hands a heart beating, stills.
she smiles with premonition. licking at the tear.
visualizing truth in the breaking
...
what has become of perfection,
tilted against the rose
broken by the light
shifting into shadow
...
careful and departed.
half a petal's width,
until gone.
stained lips,
...
a solid stack of dusty tomes
a prayer on which she built dreams
each one to fade; discard
no promise lived became as it seemed
...