drying under
moon,
can’t spot our
reflection
where we were painted
in the sky with
spilt milk,
coasting into
dawn,
in search of
graceful
song
to lament the
downed sky
we both
built.
loveloss
a sudden breeze
tips the
candle
sending its spark
spilling
onto kitchen
table..
consuming remnants
of a letter
i never seem to
complete.
made
an excuse
of our precious time
together,
and now i’d offer
my last drop
of truth
to waste it
all again.
love
is a handful
and i’m losing
grasp
of that which made
me crave
touch
in the first
place..
your palm over
my face.
farewells are
awkward
but so is such
a silence,
let’s just fill space
with truth
and fade down
our own
paths.
blowing kisses
at mirrors
won’t bring you
back into
view,
wish i were giving
in a way
that made it worth
your trip
back
into these
arms.
i wish to forget
every sorry,
then bury all
our stories,
oh, to hoist a
fresh pen–
and compose our
best again.
hands in the garden 
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