stilted and slow and dead
the birds circling the
darkest hills -
we broke into a garden
overlooking the bay
and lit candles
to fight off the dark.
we sat on weatherbeaten stone benches
talking dawn and jealousy
the emptiness of blank pages
the emptiness of bottles
mourning the loss
of everything that was good and special
and alive.
god looked down and
for what we had become
and sorrow filled us
with every breath
we breathed it and
drank it,
we took it to bed with us
and woke with it in the morning
it was physical
a child
a saint
it was a burning signal in the dusk.

love is a dog from hell.

this poem is okay. I didn't like some of the line breaks. Other then that there is some good sensory detail, a very gloomy atmosphere in this one. Very strong ending, from breathing it to burning signal in the dusk. I think your diction and syntax is pretty flawless if not a bit boring, but somehow maybe that adds to the ambience. This was a very enjoyable read but...

the title: I hate it.

its like voooomit
what comes up comes out
Thank you for posting this.

"Success is as dangerous as failure. Hope is as hollow as fear." - from Tao Te Ching