Morning. Freshly breathing, wet lungs.
I catch a glimpse of you through frosted windows
Shoulders, hair, in profile. Wearing white.
Those hours - just before sunrise, half awake, lucid in the grey;
in those dreams you shy away from my touch,
and stare at me with tawny eyes.
I wish I knew what you were thinking
I wish I could stop checking you're still there.

I linger in our fragility. Knitted cotton hearts.
You're fresh blood in me, you glitter under my skin
Breaking apart in my eyesight  -
Yet I knit poetry out of your lingering fingertips.

I had this poem
I'd been working on
All about forgetfulness

Then made the mistake
Of setting it down one day
Now I've no idea where it is

I've looked out, I've looked in
All the places that I'd been
On this endless search to find

I've looked high, I've looked low
Places I frequently would go
In the hopes of jarring this simple mind

Because this poem if it's found
Might just turn my thoughts around
Though I can't remember why that is

So in this quest I'll continue on
In the search of the poem
That I wrote about forgetfulness

stay awake
listen deeply
awake within
and breathe
embrace life

I refuse to spill my heart over any more pages for you.

How do I heal if I break every time I feel?

You say we're strangers
But countless times you and I
Met along the way

Beautiful forest
Sunlight filters through the trees
Sparkling water on the rocks