If you see her; send my regards
When her sweater doesn't quite fit anymore.
Her new, four-year-old paper hangs above her bed. 
Dust gathers on my old shirt buried in her cupboard.
Winnie wags her tail for the last time.
She's promoted.
Thinks of me plainly.
I see the white envelope slide under my door —
I send my regards.

December was remembered for what it brought
Well, more specifically what it stole from us all.
Overwhelmed like a tear in rain –
An engulfing force demanding pain.
Then, colours faded from around
Until there too was no more sound,
  Agony seeped through each room
As flowers too refused to bloom.
What’s left now with no more glee?
Hard to say, you may agree.
  As it came so it went,
  Month followed month
  With no ill intent.
January now, time moves on
Not forgetting what had gone wrong.
One becomes two, and three and four,
Until remembering too becomes a chore.
   Now six later you sit and sigh
   When you know you should instead cry.
You say tears have expired
And are no longer required –
You should be thankful
For what December brought you.

Each carriage rushes past
Asking me who I want to be -
  Fix my collar,
  Stand taller,
  Hang my bag off of my back with only one strap,
  Hold a book,
  Check my reflection in the stained glass.
As doors pass, so do parts of me,
And what I may be.

A face of petals
Surround an opening
Of childish hot pink
That has come to define you.
Yet,
Bruised ears hang
And catch words -
Polite and not.
As Old ale graces your lips
And warms you
Despite resultant fatigue.
You're tall now
And fall apart -
Drooping,
Like frail birds of paradise
Burning in moon shine.

Like a blip upon the timeline that is My life
I struggle to recall the time,
Though, not so long ago that I had entirely forgotten,
When days were consumed by your presence.
Whether speaking or simply sitting – basking in whatever
The environment offered us, it mattered very little.
I long for the stretch of time which seemed endless to
Once more return,
And to fill My life further,
Reminding me of what friendship felt like –
A foreign comfort now rarely received.

When meaning collapses and words dance
Thoughtfully, attempting to rediscover purpose
Beyond mere sound,
You will look to the darkened chamber
And see an unusually familiar phantom –
One which you would think belongs far in past
Yet refuses to be relegated to such a place.
A fleeting moment reminds you of when letters resembled
Joyous times of pleasures now unthinkable
As a sweat stained collar renders all poetry dumb.

North lay the Sea.
And for me
  To think of something
Other than old bone
Would be a thought (not quite my own)
  As that dumb thing
Lingers and leans at the back of my mind
Begging for attention from all humankind.

Yet still, it remains.
And dances cheerfully,
Wearing a face  (not quite its own)
And bearing a tone
Of uncertainty.

Lips of silver don sarcastic clothes
  With scarcely audible remarks
    Shaking the Sea itself, and
North it remains through it all.