Unbecoming

 Becoming

The ghost of you still enchants

The ancient ruins of my soul.

I cannot stop this,

I cannot help this,

This that has us faltering

Has become our deformity.

It is an ever thinning slice of good.

I am uncollected liquid sorrow.

Today's mystery's unsolved tomorrow

As love decays from clay to dust,

Dust which rose to smoke the sun.

I heave with agony for us.

Between tremors of consciousness,

A ripple of genuine angst,

A monument of unchanged things,

At last we've become a timing tragedy.

Yet in my befuddled mind

Comes to ripen your smile.
What we believe no longer matters

Until sacred valor pushes to a head

And with some cosmic luck

We might instead

For just a spell rely on happiness.