there is no soul
just a mind inhabited by fractured thoughts
replaying days
replaying words
until longing meets madness
but age tempers wisdom
until finally in the dark
pressed against a pillow
we admit to ourselves
without reservation
that there is no truth but this
light will fold into our eyes
and our desire will whisper defeat
then in the hands of time
her face will dry and crumble beneath my feet
like autumn leaves
