Impaled Faith

You never say anything...
But your sighing sounds like the walls collapsing around me...
A smile from you now is like a blur of fists...
And the thought of a kiss kills me over and over again...

My dearest love,
I see storm shadows roll over our field like a fog.
Split logs awaiting the flame to help transcend the stagnant soil.
Like the lost friend who brings the fight out and fills the room with screaming.
This room, this cage.
My hole-poked cardboard cell.
here I feel the cold fingers down my throat.
Icicles of unborn ideas thrust deep in my chest and turned to water by your hands.
There are so many ghosts here.
There are so many ghosts.
So, to answer your question, no I never feel alone.
The scabbing walls are sewn shut with the stains of all those frozen moments shoved in a box and thrown in the fire.
In this blue room the paint chips red.
You're so far away, but your hammer-mouth never stops.
Disguised as the strong-willed survivors.
The facade falls away like a sick leaf.
All yellow with disease and regret.
My horses lay silent, emaciated, and still, and the ornament of us is shattered, scattered, and alive.
Dying in the fire.
YOur jasmine breath turned dead snake shower with one whispered word.
I'm alive with squirming inadequacy, tangled and trapped in the wires of your calculated cerebral sodomy.

I never thought one word could change so much...
Goodbye