Every Sunday afternoon

I curl up in this half empty bed;

I replay the memories

I’ve rewritten in my head

And sometimes whisper

Unheard prayers of shame.

Maybe I’ll eventually reconcile

You’ll never again speak my name.

How long now has it been

Since we met up, just to end?


How many months passed

Since last I brought you flowers?


But second chances now belong

To the moments long since gone.


Memories raised up on false hope

Remain bittersweet, and hold no power.

How I long to
Savor a moment with you,
Of crème brûlée and coffee,
On the edge of a waking summer,
Beneath the shimmering stars
Of the final days of spring.



Saint Mary’s water
Is the envy of Glacier:
Icy blue, and
Scattered nearby,
Sunny wildflowers
As firecrackers frozen
Just as they burst.



We stopped our song short
Unable to hear the harmony
Of our notes combined



As a moth
I am drawn to the street lamp.
On a hazy cold night
I see a faint echo
Of ten million celestial lights
Humbled,
So my eyes may endure
Such singular wonder.



It is good to be unknown,
Sometimes.
I may sit silent at the corner of the bar
Secretly sipping chilled Lipton’s;
Pay my tab, and
Walk quietly away,
Without a single word.



I never knew the word
Desire
Until I discovered
The ways I could kiss her
I never knew the word
Famished
Until I learned
My plate was only empty
I never knew the word
Dead
Until I was invited
Into the arms of Love