in the brine
of resolute redaction
the sole soul
of solitary dissonance
finds purpose
behind
the bitter sighs
of retracted
heartspun shade

there are billions
of words
yet not one
that can describe
in totality
the encroaching madness
of choking down
the sobs
of loss and need
with any
certainty

the bitterness
tastes sweet
as the sorrow
turns sweetness
to ash
on the tongues
of those
that fall to pieces
in the subtle breeze
that blows
through the gray matters
of the heart