Wide mouth mason jar
To capture the loneliness,
Her hands remain still.

I chase words and phrases
round and round inside my head.
My thoughts slide.
They are soft butter on a hot knife.

Dripping from the blade,
they slip, without pretense,
into my waiting hand.

I cup these thoughts in my palm,
and pour my melted butter words
onto your paper heart.

Pour it out,
that dis-ease of your remorse.

Lay your broken bones gently
into this cut crystal glass.

See how the light refracts?