Vacancy

Remedy me my gray skies

Sunshine.

Vacuum out the dusted dreams

Light

Left behind.

Your channel is set

to my TV station

where white hope and dark visions collide

along a landscape

We both ascribe.

More than or nothing less than

Your Demise?

Oh, heaven sent demon

Oh, godly love-

all but you have been romanticized, but yet

Forgiven.

How simply

divinity is held close

beyond reason.

Needed.

Raped of permanence

but still not forgotten- in some purgatory

of Sentence.

Banish me somewhere

Closer.

Some other place where less is understood.

Not someplace to sneak between

but yet relish in

the Exposed place.

Left.

waiting.

Apology accepted.

Demeaned meaning,

to some other, lesser place

where

the Pomp and Circumstance of it all

can peacefully reside in;

My love, loved and yet

still loves.

Faithfully.

Dutifully.

She demands nothing less, but all the more-

he Scores.

Note by note, he, perhaps,

as my orchestra and your Sweet Orator,

was written for us both.

Oh, my love is My Love.

I demean your interference

into those sacred spaces

held in Other's places.

But, tonight.

Tonight.

Tonight.

Grieve mercilessly.

Come find me.

I am somewhere, lost in and

underneath the shallows and

regrets,

the fine space between

Pomp and Circumstance.

Lifted.

Left.