What’s to become of a setting sun that cannot be with you always even though it will return in the morning to ask your sleepy eyes if you made love to the moon?

What’s to become of a solitary moon adorned with my kisses to be sent to you each night in remembrance of the past and a hope for a dream that is so old it has borne children that have taken their place in the heavens?

What’s to become of a dry creek bed that once ran wild to your seas in anticipation of becoming one in a mating ritual that can no longer move even the smallest pebble when once boulders shuddered to think of the passion play that ruled the night?

What’s to become of the lone wolf who howled each night in your forests that have now burned to the ground with not even a remnant of smoke from a fire that consumed our past lives and is merely ashen powder with no resemblance to the beauty that he once devoured?

What‘s to become of a stone tied to a leg attached to a body that once had a heart that was held in your hands and instead is drowning and decaying under the weight of oceans that will make quick work of its flesh leaving only the chain that mercilessly did your ***** work?

What’s to become of the abandoned sailboat with clanging hardware on a mast that stands alone without a sail to catch the wind; instead left to drift aimlessly while you walk away from the dock where you dropped the knife next to the cleat where you cut it loose and set it free?

you are two different people
whereas i am the stars.
you're always going back and forth between being the sun and the moon.
but whenever you are the sun i seem to fade away.
im still there, but its as if im invisible.  

(a.b)

It is like feeling warm
when there are a few drops of rain
It is that someone listening
when you moan and complain.
Your heart beats to a thousand drums
and the knees steadily knock.
Very often the Earth moves
and then it is as still as a rock.
When there are tears
there is a finger to wipe them away
And that special smile for each other
and there is everything to say.
But three words mean so very much
and nothing could be more true.
Than those special three little words
and you mean it - I love you.

Dark,
gray,
lonely.
Baren with lost souls wandering the streets,
empty hearts,
empty stomachs,
empty eyes.

Then,
it came.

It dropped from the sky
the way tears fall from my cheek.
Little bundles of cold,
freezing the burning
hurt,
drenching the scars
with a blanket of a new day
a new thought.

They rise from the dead,
back,
alive,
and ready to roll.
Smiles leap across like rainbows on skies,
eyes lit the way you build a bonfire with frosty trembling hands,
movements jerky with fervor.

They're back.