I will be a window
and the secrets you tell with your lips.
The sighs you blanket with the softest care
and the breaths you unknowingly count.

I will be the reminder of every second spent
and every moment felt.
A contradiction of your judgement
and a compliment of your beliefs.

I will be the ink of each unwritten imitation
of every mediocre song.
The scent of orange peel that trails on the
extravagant curves of your fingernails.

(3.19.09)

You were young once, my dear.

Twice before did you close your eyes for beauty

and never found peace with the

hands that touched you.


Yes, my dear,

You were here

...once.

(6.9.10)

I will not be the hands that whisper across your skin--

the weathered kisses and cracked lips.

My caged heart is not your drum.


I will not be your stepping stone--

your weeping willow.

(6.18.17)