The prophet poet

The night sky beckons, the moon callers yelp and howl at the emptyness The cold air bites and snaps at exposed fingers, trickling down to socked toes

A nightly breeze wrapped itself around my scarf as my fingers loosely held by your gloves struggled to snuggle deeper into the large empty tips. I looked upon your face but recognized it not;

I am oblivious, I have been alone for so long, been wanting to not be alive for so long that I belittle those that value life.

I'll take suggestions for an alternate title.

Thank you. I can rest easy now, the dreams that tormented me have all gone. I can lie back and lounge in the summer air and feel the summer sun.

The tumbling clouds have tumbling come To wrench away my weeping heart Though my windowpane be shut I cannot tell the tears apart Alone I contemplate

I have trouble expressing myself, I loll on words, procrastinate about sentences that have anything to do with my internal environment but dare me to...