Forsaken

As much as I love you,
You're the sweet morning dew,
My thoughts run askew
And whispers fill the dawn.

It's silly to think you care
That I could make you dare
But to you, it's not fair
When I return to quietly fawn.

A week of sweet glimmer
Is replaced with a simmer
Optimism that grows dimmer
The grey is one hell of a creeper.

I see a shadow and bright star
Pinpricks of hope stay so far
The blackness is thick as tar
And I start to flirt with the reaper.

Dancing with a cold, clean death
Where snow will take a final breath
Into the trees, and into bare depth
A dispatch of an exiled queen.

So, in essence, my dear love,
Run, for I am not a sweet dove.
And when push comes to shove
The destruction is far too keen.