cracking and
mending
from
breaking,
not bending
bones grinding then
stiffening,
from
too much damn
flexing.
shadow work
last kiss unravels-
back to
first sandcastle..
on beach no
longer
within reach
of eyes–
yet wet with
hunger.
shrinking the
past–
down to
size,
reflecting on each
crease it
left,
letting go of
beliefs-
hopeful, yet
bereft.
pretenders-
bad actors on
a stage,
spectators not
fooled..
waiting patiently
for plot
they can sink their
teeth into.
colors of the
soul-
many brushstrokes
lack control,
wild blending of
bright paint,
won’t render artist
faint,
all colors of the
soul-
applied with loose
restraint.
laying face to
face–
in claims of same
tight space,
were we to watch
each other’s
dreams.
would we blush
or scream?
might we be underwhelmed
by what we
see?
given surplus
time–
i swear i’d waste
it not
on same games
that got me
caught.
carried on a
breeze’s
trace-
is hollow ache i can’t
quite place,
though known well
by its acrid
taste
i breathe it into
cracks on
face.
captain turns pale
and sick-
when each
option
sinks a
ship
yet, he must
decide..
and quick.
ten fingers
entwined
we scaled
a hill..
to see what may
be watching
from other side
of the green
but caught our reflection
in flooded
ravine.
hands in the garden 
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