War inside my head

Stolen moments,
out of his and her life,
are at war.
no its not a battle,
its unceasing,
bleeding of the soul.
wailing wind whistles shrilly,
singing his pyrrhic victory song.
wearing the moments wreath,
he walks away,
leaving not a trail,
which she can follow.




You have changed, I think,
But I am no one to judge,
for better or for the worse.
not even allowed to ponder,
because in my hands it was not.

Not to judge,
you taught me well,
You knew you would change,
and drift apart
being judged is not what you would want.

Cannot tag you as bad,
blot you as wrong,
Tell me,
how am I supposed to forget
the past gone.

“I am responsible for you”,
You said once,
Yes, for all the pain you are responsible,
really responsibly,
you did play that part.

So responsibly that the only pain I felt,
was not from the path of thorns,
or from bruises of the world,
but from whispers of my help,
echoed back from the dark oblivion you were now part of.