Tuesday, December 30, 2014


To Troy

Every now and then, you let the curtain drop.
Your hands, grown tired of holding tight
To the ropes, let go. It's alright sometimes
To feel the burn of the rope running hurriedly
Under the weight of what's falling. It's alright
Sometimes to see the emptiness beyond,
to hear the silence, to admit your reticence
And the cold that's taken hold so long ago
It's become inseparable from you.

But your dreams tell a different story still,
Tell of a hunger far deeper than the cold.
Will it as you may, you remain human
Under the glass: thirsty, mad, and yearning.
Will they one day, too, turn colorless as glass?
Colorless, cold--but always--breakable.

(Originally posted on October 3, 2013)

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