Friday, December 12, 2008


She believed faith
could move mountains.
Tyrone was drawn
from the shadows.
Tyrone was a hostage to pity,
her ransom was inarticulate.


Tyrone felt pleasant,
Though it exhausted him
To feel this way.
She sent him letters
From across the ocean.
Tyrone knew it had been days
Since they were penned
But it made today
Feel like now.


It was all Tyrone's fault.
He had been punished
For his innocence
But slipped away clean
On everything else.
She seemed
Always to be waiting,
For declarations or confessions.
Tyrone was waiting too.