This space i've created for myself is now vast,

rolling expanse void and featureless

only marked by the iced remnants of the us that was.

Tattered pennants exclaim the ache

of each pain I caused in their stillness:

carcass of a rose, lone thorn hypothermic;

favorite blanket-- shredded, stiff,

no warmth in its remains;

discarded piece of mind, embossed

with impending twilight's greening-blue, and cold--

Your eyes, greying under tufted brows

like the fading dreams of the fitting sun

that shivers horizontal.

Sense the wind here, washing over skin.

Listen to it whisper as it wanders,

whistle, inciting chill misery, wistful

yet still wicked as witches' wishes.

Twisting and writhing- embittered,

whipping cyclonic about this worn column.

this last sign. Weathered pedestal stands

and sways like a timeless metronome;

I mark the aeons of each moment in the silver

stretch and snap of its sinew.

Jagged crack's spiral ascension provides

hand-holds, fingers grip that leverage, climb,

pull writhing mind in tow, and so ancient mariner

is resurrected with simplest sacrifice:

little gull, little gull up there crossed and confused,

Ive already unstrung the fell bow that I used,

that which projected a bolt of soft empathy, carved

through air, pierced through the plumage and vitally lodged

in your psyche. Blinded by logic my vision was fogged,

my eyes thus withheld how that logic was flawed;

I unburdened a load fit for an albatross

on soft fledgeling wings and ignored how they bruised.

So when I, aided with time, finally came to know

how my best of intentions had shattered you so

I created this place. But it never was was cold

till the absence of happiness rendered it froze.

Relish distance and anger, if you must use them to mend,

and for now ill remember our warmth and pretend.