if all the glory

had to end

between 

a years goodbye

and all that love 

would come down to

an ancient, silenced

cry,

betwixt once was

and never has

and boy! 

was she a dream

sit i still

in that simple cloak

of torn and withered

seam.

..and there in dulled

and weathered sun

where moonbeams

have no place

worn chin lies thick

on barreled chest

and hides sweet

useless face.