I Know...
I know the thud of crackfoot steps
will creep upon the naked neck
and someone's voice will whisper near
a breath to tease upon the nape.
I know the sun may fail to rise
and fading vision drain my eyes,
where often gleaned a falling tear
as life implodes with no escape.
I know that you cannot reflect
my love, for it stays circumspect,
and this has slain my hopeful dream
as surely as a sniper's bead.
I know that hope descends like rain,
evaporates in steam again,
with open mouth and silent scream
the last of Summer must recede.
I know of loss and widow's weeds
as Autumn into Winter bleeds,
and nights draw ever close and short
and fill my thoughts with stone.
I know of all I ever craved
was good, but gone with little saved,
deposits nothing to report
on love that loves alone...
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