I Would Shoulder the Sky

I grow weary of the myths.
I won't be rising from the ashes,
And the ashes will not let me go.

There is a storm outside my window,
As well as a storm inside me.
One drop will; another will drown.
I know not which is killing me.

There are condemned fortunes.
But I still have faith in dying...
Perhaps in the arms of my regrets.

Every breath of my youth's spring,
I waited for you to kill me,
For I had loved to love in vain.
You no longer know my name...
We are ghosts for the first time again.

Every time I dream, I am so afraid
I will waken without your touch.
I would shoulder the sky.
And you cannot see me cut the sun in two
One half to wish on, and one half for you.

It is like I will die today
With but one feather on my wings.
I am still dreaming, so afraid.
Will you please stop dying
Again behind my eyes?
I am still falling again.
I am still falling again.

© 2018 Marten Hoyle