Tattered and in pieces, shackled invisibly
Howling gales, surrounding me frenzied
Lashing my torn spirit, whispering as I search
Lost, darkness immediate dragging my core
Crying out, find me here on this shore
Red skies, angrily brighten the horizon
Breezes calm in dawns face, muting the fury
Showers fall, washing the previous night’s wounds
Chains fall away as a pathway opens ahead
Whispers beckon, barely heard over wind-chimes
Soaring, shearing edges from diaphanous clouds
Leaving trails, breadcrumbs to follow as I search
For rest, for peace, for a place to land quietly
Battered, betrayed with redemption beyond reach
Gossamer robes flow around me, burning my skin
Each touch scorching reminders of pairings
Night falls again, nightmares beckon once more
Perhaps tonight will be different
My bond slips as you become more distant
Once my king now my black prince
Still, I miss your skin, in my dreams
My bound memories, reminders of a reverie
5-January-2020
QBG_Tilted Tiara 
“Perhaps tonight will be different.” There is always hope, I hope. This could very well be a goodbye kiss, a momma sending her young and only son to war, the grief suffered at the physical loss of a loved one. Poetry gives us so many ways to enter a conversation regardless of the specific situation. Poetry opens broader conversations. Thanks for sharing.
It is only my musing. Some stay in my journal, some make it here. Not to many these days. But one of my promises to self, write more.
Nice to see you.