another poem ( promise i'll continue soon )

My Knight in a Tan Coat

My heart was a vacant space
Searching for adoration.
My mind was weary
Deliberating an eternity of singularity.

My bed stayed cold
An empty valley laid out beside me.
My nights were hush
The blood flow through veins as deafening as rivers.

His picture was radiating 
True love at first sight.
His eyes were welcoming
A fervent pool to fall into.

His kisses unimaginably soft
Such as cashmere against skin.
His support unwavering
Like that of a Guardian Angels.

My search for adoration now over
No eternity of singularity.
My bed now warm and inviting.
My nights now filled with whispers.

This all possible upon his arrival
A saving grace to a vacant heart.
This all possible due to his presence
A weary mind set to rest.

He is my Knight 
In a tan coat.

Another poem im in the poetry mood :)

OUR LAST CHRISTMAS

The front door was now open to ruins
Never have i seen a winter wonderland riddled with such destruction
The Oder that filled the sky was the foul mix of death, sickness, and fear.
The screams were those of pleading souls and that of an unimaginable creature once known as a man.
The things I considered neighbors and friends, yesterday, now soulless, ignorant, black pits of murderous minds.
The eve of Christmas a mere twenty-four hours passed, now was broke into a day of Christ slathered in decaying flesh and blood.
My doorway was seeping the last smells of Christmas that seemed to exist.
The warm scent of peppermint, pine needles, and what now looked possibly like our last supper.
The bolt slammed shut, for now the outside world was miles away.
I now stood with unwanted knowledge of our fate, inevitable endings for each of us.
I raise my voice in with happy song, pushing horrific thoughts to the back.
Let us enjoy this moment.
Let us keep the door closed to ruins.
Let us forget our soon to come end.
Our last Christmas.

poem after being gone so long!!

BLACK HOLE

In this orifice darkness is no woe.
Emptiness is no disturbance.
noiselessness is no annoyance.
But loneliness is an executioner.

Loneliness calls this dwelling home.
Takes claim to bodies that fall to it.
Shows welcoming arms.
offers no comfort.

Loneliness loans time to ponder self worthiness.
Yet offers no reconciliation with ones self.

Darkness is no woe.
Emptiness is no disturbance.
Noiselessness is no annoyance.
Loneliness is an executioner

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