Among Voids

With the dead canvas of scars—
Memories of what never was ours;
Waking in the dust of souls forgot,
Lost in untrodden fields of thought
Where lies the grave of my desire,
I lay my ghost in shades of fire.

I feel death in the sunshine;
And the shadows all are wine.
And in that sweetest spill,
That I drink at will,
I want to kiss the sky
To taste all things that die.

With this rose I cannot keep,
And with these tears I cannot weep,
I am alone among friends
With the ache that never ends.
Among voids, I am the king
In the whispers that they sing.

© 2021 Marten Hoyle