Delicate thing
the bones exposed
through translucent skin
under which flows
the vivid red lines,
highways that lead
to and from
her heart.

And I'm dreaming of a dream
and we are lost,
white makeup,
trees, everywhere.

Just a simple twist of words
to tighten maybe pull the cord
as brittle as the shells may be,
there's the watchful eyes of Miss Luci.

I'm day dreaming
as you night dream
and I can only
imagine what inverted blessings
have I done that now
reveal you to me,
sleeping,
away from any problems,
only
innocence
and
beauty remain.

Separate phone plans.
Separate bank accounts.
Separate vehicles.
Separate homes.
Separate insurance.
Separate hearts.
Separate lives.

Separate.

The hold music is especially poignant today
and my heart is hurting
as I wash the last dish you ever used,
feeling the last warm water that involves you,
with my fingers wrinkling up one last time
as I commit this morning ritual,
again,
with no one to celebrate it with.

Straw-colored veil
falls naturally into itself.

She smiles,
not knowing its power.

Little bones etch the flesh
and quickly clouds are parting,
laying out their symphony
of rain upon this tightened roof.

In her fragility
she shines,
so strong.

Your Mother died
at only thirty,
when you were just
thirteen.

I'm sure you've always wondered,
and so have I,
whether you would live longer
than her.

Turns out,
you died at thirty,
too.