falling for you one last time (poem)

When the time is right,
meet me in the autumn-stained woods
where a rushing stream cuts through the hills
and the rocky slope below is obscured by leaves.
We will sit and talk until the mood is right,
when the warm glow of sunset ignites the forest
and sensible people escape its grasp
before darkness awakes and ensnares all.

Then we will stand and share a kiss:
one hand resting lightly on your waist
as you gently press yours against my chest,
our final kiss just like the first.
Then I will pull away as you push,
falling and crashing upon every rock below
and add my own crimson leaves to the display
until the stream finally entombs me.

-Zero

no one heard them scream, now they whisper (poem)

The house stood broken and decayed,
illuminated by paltry rays of moonlight
that seemed afraid to enter the dark windows
with old boards dangling from rusty nails
left behind from the days before it was forgotten

The cold October air cut through it
and had already ripped every leaf off of every tree
leaving nothing but spindly fingers in the sky above
all reaching out towards the moon for salvation –
they would crack and fall before it would arrive.

On nights like that, whispers can be heard
through the creaking and groaning of the house
while the forest lay still with knowing unease
no words can ever be made out
yet they tell a story of tragedy – and murder.

In the red-stained darkness of the house
their belongings were left to rot and decay:
a stuffed bear now a centipede nest
the kitchen a chittering cockroach haven
the noose collapsed under the rafters.

-Zero

Fortune's Tapestry (poem)

Out at a pub with you
I feel my blessed luck in every moment,
the threads of chance converging once more.
I know it's too early for certainty,
but I stole a glimpse at the tapestry formed:
it wrapped itself up around my heart –
recently reformed and reforged in sacred flame
with every careless madness scorched away
and all my doubts withered under a blazing sun.

What luck it was not to have met earlier,
to have our paths meet too early to intertwine
the tapestry would fray at every seam
becoming unwound with every step forward
though the ground collapsed beneath our feet
and forced us to forge ahead to survive.

Now here under the light of a half moon
we sit and share in each other's presence
every thread of chance interlaced with fortune –
I propose a toast in our luck's honor,
to the tapestry we are sure to weave.

 -Zero