Cut

I am removed from your companionship,
the undeniable flow of my sonnets
is throbbing somewhere lost away.

-.-

You are the nostalgic half-quarter moon
that I harness each homeless twilight,
yet I become blind and stray from my
course.

-.-

Hear the whistles through the fog
and know I sit, chained in pity,
bleeding for our love to be closer.