Synonymous

Furtive verses and phrases

hidden between black journals

are my fragments from December

frozen forevermore in snow.

So I say farewell to snow

to the downtempo metronome

beating behind the throes,

the slow cadence and echoes.

I cannot recall all which echoes

the past blurs and blizzards

shards which dissipate to fog

to which memory fades alone.

No soul persists only alone

despite what so whispers so.

Mirrors are mirrors are enough

casting pieces back in blood.

I bled without blood,

wrote without words

and spoke only silence

to your downtempo beating

metronome synonymous

with hushed flurries of snow.

Enclosed in your chest's echoes

did I find your essence alone

drawing blood as my blood,

a solitary presence and home.