Tuesday, January 27, 2015

A Year of Mondays

I've lived a year of Mondays, love 
since last I saw your face.
I've counted sheep and seconds
on my journey from your grace.
I've cloaked myself in darkness
so your light could shine for me-
I've taken rogue thoughts prisoner,
and refused to set them free.
I've quieted the melodies that once
could make me dance;
each song is now a dagger,
and I just can't take the chance. 
My pillow is now empty and 
I dream of the mundane-
every night and every day,
each moment it's the same.
Logic won the battle, 
now the castle moat is dry,
and still I can't help throwing wishes
up to the dark sky. 

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