Alone in a sonnet he sings to no one,
pouring his life in a thimble
Sheet music saplings unfold in the sun,
melodies eager and nimble

Carving a song in the rock at his feet,
tempos of Saturday’s season
Lyrics he’s written but can not repeat,
sadness a part of the reason

Clouded concertos amass in the sky,
metronome thunderstorms grumble
Holding his breath as he fears he might cry,
deaf as the harmonies crumble

Tuning fork echoes that weep on the wind,
listening for what they are saying
Unrecognizable only to him,
breaking this heart he is playing

Hi,
I want to steal three things from you.
Your soul
Your Heart,
and your last name.

If the person you love
Is truly
Holding you up
Then there's no way
You could fall
For someone else

i was broken
once.

i don't even know what
i was before
maybe a vase or a
common water glass
a ceramic mug or a glowing
stained glass window.

i don't know how
it happened maybe i
got dropped or cracked through
contact or the temperature
changed too quickly for
my fragile self to handle.

and i don't know who or
what cracked me like my
twelve year old cd cases
or if it was a slow stress
fracture brought on
by myself.

but the signs are
there
that i was broken
once.

yes, i was
broken
once
and i am still
shattered
in my darkest places.

but i make a
**** good mosaic.

you, again
my name on the sand
my name, my life, just the same

you, again, the ocean
you be the beach i gave myself to
you be the tides that erase me quite

you, again, my earth-shaker
my alphabets remain nothing
my story crumbled by the wind

The worst part about growing up is seeing everyone else with the dreams you wanted.

K R W

it's those
who feel
the need to help you
the most
who don't feel.
it's they
who need
(your) help
the most

i am they
and i don't feel
but still i hear
their
   ah...
of relief

again
i am
    

     empty

and how i wish
i could learn
how to breathe
if once
one sigh
of relief

- end