#writingwa

The nail was praised for holding fast, for making broken rafters last. No one asked why it obeyed, or what had bent it in this way.

They valued the weight it learned to bear, the roof it kept suspended there. But every nail that holds such weight, was hammered down into its fate.

The wind carries echoes of all I've known,

the walls of home reduced to stone.

Yet from the ruins, I bear no cross,

for I am king, made lord by loss.

Night draped its veil in woven stars,

adorned in light to mask its scars.

They clung like silk against the void;

A borrowed grace the night enjoyed.

But day ascends to claim their spark,

undressing night back into dark.

Though night would guard their dying worth,

stars fall so dawn can come to birth.

I did not ask the morning in, it entered like a thief and laid its little golden hand upon my private grief.

I had been absent for an hour, or centuries, perhaps. The dark had folded up my name and kept it in its lap.

But day, too honest to be kind, returned me to my breath, as if the heart were not a door that sometimes longs for death.

The mirror won’t meet me, it knows where I’ve been.

I am as damned as the devil, and as guilty as sin.

My name is a whisper, carved under your skin,

Forgotten by time, and forsaken by kin.

In my hands, I hold the ashes,

of things I wish were still around;

Lost in time, the moment passes,

in sorrow's depth, my heart is found.

With fear I watched your rage unleash,

a rage that seemed to find no peace.

Grew into footsteps — worn with ire,

cursed to bear the same old fire.

Now grown, my fear lies in the past,

although your shadow still is cast,

whenever rage runs through my veins,

binding me to your old chains.

Copper-red hair, a face unseen,

A beauty in pixels, formed through a screen.

Your hands, your art, a black beret;

was all I knew until that day.

As the train doors parted, far and wide,

I scanned the platform, eager-eyed.

When in a sea full of eyes, I found your pair,

to fall in love, right then and there.