1/19/19

There's a man running.

His head's up high, feet kicking up sand.

Past his ear, lightning flies.

There's a darkness coming from her eyes.

Look in deep and listen until morning.

Power is like a game for the young.

Never knowing the purpose of winning.

Never knowing the chances of losing.

Heartbreak has inspired the art of war.

Cannons ring out like an instrument of purity.

Poems rip though hearts and create nights of longing.

Holding pedals that will fall in due time.

Patience is an old man never knowing.

Of what was there and what magic he once held.

Calming the heartbeat and steadying the breathing.

There was no one else who could replace you.