The days and nights are long.
A sadness that dares
not be named.
Hard hearts, all around.
A few laugh,
wrenched by one style.
No longer able to live
in a sea of love.
But you and I
are sweet, not still indifferent.
And I confess,
that I will be kind to you.
Like some other men do.
A hope of bliss,
before I finally dig my grave.
A Wandering Poet 