I miss your wrists;
and the way they unhinge
at the cliff edge of my shoulders.
I miss standing breath to breath,
close enough to feel your heart
making music against my chest.

Seagulls pacing dark skies.
Walking circles below,
with a cigarette, in the snow.
Thinking of reuniting with you.

I went back to the past,
exhausted by everything new,
estranged by my time with strangers.
Dreaming of reveries untrue.

I went back to the future,
but all it showed me was you.
Nothing of what would become,
nothing of what we would do.

I wanted to break that portal,
to cut myself off,
to be free of prophetic visions.
I was afraid to be alone.

So I let it sit,
like a canker,
like a cyst,
until I would be brave enough.

Brave enough to step through it.

soft spokenly
a token of gratitude
to thee
what seems as imperfection
is great perfection
to me
never change
never want to be
some one else's arrange