to trip on a tongue
i talked with a boldness
in a world where things seem heavenly
talked of angst, atop of liquor
drank heavily to control the sensations
anger drew revelations, happiness sat in a long-awaited oasis
conversation drew dark as hands left their mark
a muse i held on to, a muse who fueled the fuse
i used to feel warmth in the night
seems cold drew flight
to sing a song i once knew
holding onto vines i used to swing to
the grounds await a dance where two used to hold hands
follow where i led, leaves change to crimson red
hands used to grasp the eve of the night
how i twirled my legs to twine you tight
now i write with edges and leave words endless
as beginnings come from ends
thoughts drive themselves from previous intent
i can still hold your hands
in memories and in shams
i still speak your name
in the deepest of–
beginnings come from ends