I Know...

I know the thud of crackfoot steps will creep upon the naked neck and someone's voice will whisper near a breath to tease upon the nape. I know the sun may fail to rise and fading vision drain my eyes, where often gleaned a falling tear as life implodes with no escape. I know that you cannot reflect my love, for it stays circumspect, and this has slain my hopeful dream as surely as a sniper's bead. I know that hope descends like rain, evaporates in steam again, with open mouth and silent scream the last of Summer must recede. I know of loss and widow's weeds as Autumn into Winter bleeds, and nights draw ever close and short and fill my thoughts with stone. I know of all I ever craved was good, but gone with little saved, deposits nothing to report on love that loves alone...