Michaelpoet

A Means To An End

Chimes of your heartbeat ring in my ears.

When sensation evades the disabled the night never seems to end.

I am the seducer of truth. 

What truth can be found in the primitive emotion belonging to the betrayed?

If the winter brings relief from a summer of pain then I shall look on the snow as a friend.

What of a love created out of obligation?

My loneliness is eclipsed only by my need for connection to a love that is unattainable.