To the Lost and Beloved

I am going to kill it. The moment that lies in the movement of our body, the sound of your voice that echoes in my memory. I will leave its corpse in the gutter, not out of spite but out of desperation. There were words that once tied themselves to meaning, that now fall flat. I would hold them high as heralds of truth and beauty in the secret moments of my honest self, but those have all been lost. You were the place that safety felt real. That cannot exist anymore. Now cold and naked I must wonder the tundras of my own mind. There the beast of history come to the field snarling, as rage hangs in steaming exhalations. It may have been valid, it may have been how I really am, but you took that with you. You cannot come, bring all the good love gifts its endurer and expect them to last in your absence. I suppose that is the risk you take when entering the life of another. You become the sunshine, and bring upon the sunset. What days come there after. Though when it does, that day has passed, an any light you could have been passes. There have been few times in my life when I have looked at my records and wondered if the day had never ended, if perhaps I could have painted a landscape, crafted a world that may have held the suns interest for just a moment longer, before I fell from its grace, and it died among the demons of the underworld, only to be reborn. I have gotten more accustomed to the darkness than I have the light. At least in the cold solitude I know what little worth I may have. I do  not need the lies light to dissuade me from the horrific nature of my reflection. I shall not tell time by the passing fancies of light. My skin will grow cancerous in the attempt to please its glaring. I have only so much surface to sacrifice.

So tell me, those that have not seen the light that pores from your essence, what will you do when some one sees its radiance. Do you know the landscape you wish to illuminate. Have you become comfortable with the shadows you will force upon the face of those who grace you shining. or will you burn, blind to the world it molds by simply being. Will you forget the power that holds, or will you claim it. How many more times will your sun rise. I only hope that you find the one great moment, one great landscape, that would destroy you to see cast into darkness.