Bouquet

you sold me flowers
from the top
shelf

and i could tell you picked
them yourself,

to lend my space
some of your
touch,

let’s vow to do
our best

to keep the
vase water fresh,

to help them
ward off
death.

callous whispers in
a tunnel..

underground,

where the ghosts
of engines

rattle and chill those
yet standing
solemn

atop raised platform,
poised to step

into an even
darker
sea.

someday i’ll
take it,

that ride with a
a stranger
,

knapsack in
the back
,

eyes shimmering
silver,

one day we’ll
make it
,

to that wave from
shore,

shrouded by
cool sea
mist

a welcome home
i can’t resist.

purge me of
disgrace,

wipe stains from
my stained glass face..

hides not my
age,

relieve all
punctured parts

that flaunt the
freshest
marks

on oak bark
carved.

dreamt my
birth

and of distractions of
the lifetime that
followed

without direction
determined,

no purpose
defined,

awkwardly walking that dark
crooked line.