Echoes of Him

This has been revised, revised, revised...

I am running away...
And writing what I could
Never say.
I've fallen quickly-
Into the burnt illusion
That reeks of false morality,
And crystallized immortality.

I am haunted
By prismatic memories
Of what I once wanted.
Memories of him,
He who rained sufferance and empathy.
His love was Life-fragile and opalescent,
His soul was LIGHT-strong and irridescent.

He is a divine wind...a winter hue.
He is now just an echo
Of a man I once knew.
He was the crossroad between sex and death,
And brilliant in his veracity.
But he slipped, became broken and stoic-
Now he's remembered as another lost poet.

His spirit whispers tales of life and love.
Yet his life was one of tears and blood.
Memories of him remain carved in my heart,
And his sad lullabies echo
Endlessly through my soul...