Copyright to whoever took it. Lifted from


It is late.
The horned moon declines
As I lay my head
Into soft down
That feels
Like soft skin.
And I dream
That in your arms
I am held.

You are gone
Under a sun that
Is never veiled
In clouds.
A light, heat
I could not sustain
And, so I lie,
Bathed in the cold
Pale glow
Of weakness.

And I wish I could wake up
Wake up to new life,
New love, new you.

Author: falselogic

doesn’t mix well with polite company; his two favorite topics being politics and religion. When he isn’t out cycling, swimming, running, or camping he can often be found behind his computer working on some creative project or in his garden trying to coax out a few more vegetables. Mr. Howard misspent his youth reading genre-fiction; today, he is making up for it by consuming and reviewing large quantities of non-fiction literature. The fact that truth, in every way, is more fascinating than fiction still tickles him. His ramblings can be found at; his own work at He works for the state of California as a legislative consultant. The job is even more glamorous than it sounds…

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