Ink-Stain

I pen you in, ink stains in my mind,
An angel in my nightmares, the pain behind my sighs,
But a shadow nonetheless, shapeless and undefined,
Lingering like my memories, closed behind my eyes.

Struggling tears of frustration, hope and anticipation,
Trickle into dreams, pressing me to wake,
Half waiting, yet filled with hesitation,
Causing my heart stir, forcing my heart to ache.

It beats, pulses, a whisper in the dark,
Asking you to breathe in every little piece of me,
But my voice leaves no quiet, nor no lasting mark,
I will die in this silence, pleading for you to hear me.

I want you to move me, want you to push me,
Sink me into something I can drown in, something bold,
Yet still, I dread the moment when you come to find me,
And kill me with your desperate shivering, because I left you cold,

But before the grass hears these dying footsteps fall,
And the stars slink away, leaving a starless night,
Hold me once more beneath the mounting pall,
Hold me in my dreams, free from morning’s plight,

And as the moon melts into the mourning sky,
I know to put you behind me, with all the things we said,
And let the wind blow painful would-be kisses goodbye,
To leave what could have been, crumbling now, alone, and dead.

I say this because waking up after each night dreamt of with you
Is too hard, so to end it is some sort of start.
This time is not eternal, and I can’t keep up with you,
When every vacant day, every hollow night, breaks my deserted heart.