His
On silvery threads
Whispers of dreams
worlds apart
so little between
-Falling-
His hand on my face
His eyes saw my soul
my lips prayed to his
As I fell
Such tradgedy in love
that does not return
lost in a sea of moonlight blunders
Wishes echo while pennies drop
love has one face
his name remains
In the crease of a smile
breath on my lips
-Then Stillness-
until my fall is broken
by the granite in his heart
I fall to him
While the moon is high
In the only place that I may be
-His-
A place of my creation, paid for in tears
surrounded by dreams that will never be mine
rented, junkie hairbrush goldfish blues

this is stunningly beautiful! ahhhh!*sighs happily", thank you so much for the great read and please keep it up!
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I second that assessment. A wonderful poem.
*s.t.*
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voil[

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voilá