Malignant

Tyrone was lost
She was everywhere.
Tyrone had grown used to
hiding the best part
of himself.
Her fear was ethereal.
Tyrone's devotion
was malignant.

Hostage

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

Letters

Tyrone felt pleasant,
Rested,
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.

Guilty

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

Tornado

She said, this looks like
Tornado weather
And Tyrone spun.
He sucked everything
Into the vortex of what
Couldn't be explained.
She implored him
To seek shelter.
Tyrone stared at the sky
Until she blew inside
The funnel too.

Blue

She was guttural,
Tyrone was thread bare
Blue.
She sang in a silent night,
Tyrone whispered devotion.
Tyrone memorized what was
Meaningless.
She couldn't remember
what she forgot.

Blown Away

Wind that has banished
two autumn's leaves
and whipped flags of disgrace
can't fill the sails
to bring us home.

Light that burns days shorter
can't illuminate
these secrets
their shadow grows longer
and we look away.