tone:

Time ticks by.

That predictable metronome.

Does it mark time reliably?

I can’t seem to tell.

Night goes by so slowly these days.

I think I remember.

A time before that,

the seconds seemed to pass so fast.

The minutes and hours melted

becoming days and weeks.

It came time for a new dawn.

Time to don a new man’s clothes.

I can no longer disgrace the sacred cloth,

I can only atone for the blasphemy.

Hail Mary.

Hail Mary.

I am a sinner,

come to repent.

Forgive the trespass.

I bear a wreath of flame,

ready to lie at your feet.

…

On acceptance,

I can write you much.

I still see the same face,

it doesn’t lie any longer.

Though assuredly before it

was a matter of jest.

The jester of course,

could always tell you the truth.

One just had to be prepared for it.

Once again we dyed it black,

romance shone in monochrome.

I’ve always been in love with Grey.

Her tone every color of the winter sky,

the very fog that wraps you in her embrace.

It was a type of love that wasn’t for everyone,

I saw that in myself.