I left Ireland a few years back,
disillusioned by her new found greed.
Like a lost lover, I searched for another bed,
although none are as alluring as hers.

My dear, sweet Ireland, you were a tragedy
waiting to happen...to someone else.

A year has gone by so fast and yet
I've been breathing at a snail's pace
In August you said I touched your soul
Now, you don't even talk back.
So my words are for myself, as
they reflect I hear them loud,
but when you finally read them
they'll sound hollow-glad I can't
see the look in your eyes.

I cannot know your mind in these matters,
only the cold egde to your words that
I do not believe is your voice, but
that of a strangled heart hurled
from a happy place to the very depths
of this kind of hell.
I thought it my place to rescue you,
but we found ourselves entwined in
a brambled love and embittered by
our want we fell further adrift until
we reached a crevice from which
to hang or hang ourselves.

Exhaustion-
                  Last night you walked my dreams.
I tried to take your hand, but you pulled away
without a word.
                   In the early morning light I awake.
Thoughts of you flood out the light and shadows
 play at the edges of my heart and mind.

I am tired.