Blazing Trails

They speak of cutting bait

to untangle your life.

 

They speak of burning bridges

so you don’t return to the things

you wish to leave behind.

 

They speak of cutting losses

to start all over again.

 

But I am for blazing trails,

setting them alight so that

no one follows.

The Mourning After

Amid the wreckage of Love’s palace he stood, looking at the blood and rubble of what had once been splendid and vibrant and good.

No more.

Empty now, his sobs echoed in the broken rafters, louder for that he’d told himself he wouldn’t cry.

Men have no feelings, no hearts. They are but brute and rutting beasts capable only of low thought and high mischief.

Darkness gathered at the window, peering in on him with its pale lunar eye lighting the ruin he’d become, kneeling with his face in his hands, shoulders shaking like a trembling child.

Sudden, cruel, and terrible had been the sound of her high-heeled footsteps, staccato clacking  like small caliber shots to his heart.

Dignity lost, manhood scattered, his ice veins turned to water,and the water came out through his eyes. Despair had him by the throat and pulled the anguish out of him. He gave himself over and vowed he would always remember

And in the morning after, he would begin to become whole again,

But in the mourning after, he would never forget.