All away.

You wept onto stone shoulders,
There could have been no comfort here.
This body grew weary
from the fear and fight
you brought.
The nights had grown so long
so cold.
All the notes,
flattened inside the song.

You spoke to deafened ears,
A debt, unpaid
A death, unmourned
Never knowing,
when the life had left.
the most quiet, final breath.

You reached to grasp a limp hand.
There could have been no hold here.
These arms had become simple
from the bearing of pain
you had sewn.
The days became fluidly
staccato.
no milestones,
nothing wholesome,
no thing right,
only the wrong.

You fought an empty battle,
Weapons formed
in the war,
languished near
and faltered far.
Shooting cannons of vapid
promise
into simple, silly ruin.

And, I pulled together
all your holds,
and words,
the promises and the hope
spoken with might.
and all the dreams that
you brought to my feet,
I piled them low and neat
and in the light of my new day,
put them all away.

Jason Christopher Johnson
December 6, 2013