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Cimmerian Ink

pretense feigns
a waning heart
when hours spill restless
upon midnight
and yesterdays tears
still stubbornly cling
to a aging face that
desperately desires
a new dream

were it that I
could feel
such tenderness
above the ache
of broken years
it would be
a lost dream
from long ago
to collect one by one
my falling tears

burdens delicately
transformed
into Cimmerian ink
released from
the depths
of a broken pen
not wanting more
than to just
release the pain
no hope can live
within a heart
tearstained

ache etched upon
everything touched
yesterday, today
it doesn't matter much
every minute spent
just becomes
another tear
faith somehow
misplaced within
the bends of
all the lost years

© LadyRaine