my sunbeam of light in which breaks me from the darkness and fills my soul with hope,

guiding me to a softer yet sharper place in which i know longer feel alone.

bringing me to a heat which i can no longer bare. My skin tingling like the first cold at the end of an era.

my ears being filled with the gentle sound of wispers, and the sound of cold air being passed through my ears with and instantly warmer feel.

mouthing every single sy-la-ble as the words become of so more familiar, my expression grows to more then a wimper, i know we are poetry in motion.

then the light seems to dimmer,blurred images only visible through my swollen eyes is tormenting me i seem to slur my words with a sense of nonsense.

and as i seem to simmer on this stage of broken dreams and cold tv dinners someone merges from glow, and angel a saint a keeper of faith..

then a small flickered light appears from the crack in the ceiling you curse still slurring your words but slower, and not as often as when you felt the agenda soon become the impossible..

as my thoughts cave in the crack is the only thing that stops be from seeing you fall by the way side, all i wanted was you to be my kind of sinner, but you were only a saint. I cursed to you and your everlong breaking heart and moving out of your comfort zones to a place you wished you could call home.

we are the end..

then that wish soon became an undecided future for the saint who used her kind sinner as a barrier to her everlasting feel like a man of solitary disposition. The little hope she stiched underneath her cold layers of flustered white over used skin had soon become the expected prospective to her unwealthy imaginable life.