And the mourning dove breaks the dawn of winter’s fall.
It’s call echoes and whispers in the trees,
Rings back into my ears and touches my soul.
The touch of your skin renders my heart and makes me start to forget.
The fire we lit warmed our hearts,
But burned the forest down.

Some things we can’t forget,
Some things we can never remember
And these things that we’re fighting for
Were never there at all.
And maybe you were never really there for me at all.

The heat of the desert

The steady beat of my heart.

stilled by the frigidness of your

breath.

Breath which never uttered

those forbidden words.

Words that sting like icicles,

Slicing through.

This exhalation which knocked

The fragile wind from my

Calloused chest,

inhaled again
and
took it back.

Now the desert sun beams strong

once more,

do my eyes elude me

Or are they flaccid?

Will the wind

come in whispers

and bring the numbness

of the cold back into my lungs?

I can only hope

And anticipate.

Please don’t make me wait

Forever