I crave paper
I long for its smooth space
Open fields of hidden words
Carriers of life
Forever anticipating the touch of a hand
The caress of a pen
Judging not content
nor the needy desire to speak
through silence

I collect pencils
Small, used and worn
They sit in a box on a shelf
They are reminders of stories told
Companions of bits of my moments
which have faded from mind
but are found on paper
spilled from pencils

Your jeans are still there
Thrown over a chair
A reminder of you
I dare not move
I peek as I pass
Sneak a look at the past

Your jeans are still there
Thrown over my chair
A presence I feel
Filling my room
I stare at the pockets
That once held your hands

Your jeans are still there
Thrown over that chair
Proof you once were
A part of my space
I walk round them
Fearing their touch

Your jeans
Still there

What would I wish for?
What would I want?
To be whole again?
To be sane, or to not…
One more minute?
One more look?
To go back and do it over, do it by the book?
One more beer, just one more night?
What do we wish for when there’s no light?
To be with ease?
Just to do as I please, without worries or fears
There are no more years to feel guilty I missed
Just one more kiss?
Another touch, another hug?
Another day?
For friends not to go away?
What will I wish for?
What will I want?

I feel
It falls
I shiver
It flows
I float
It showers
me
with
once
forgotten
memories
I find
feelings
long
lost

Us
Is no more
Now there is you
Now there is me
Just like that
Separated through time
Standing on different lines
Looking to find our ways
Wondering what made us stray
Us
Is no more

When did it stop?
When you forgot to call?
When you didn't come?
Or when your hand slipped from mine?

When did it stop?
When there was no embrace?
When you ceased listening?
Or when your fingers no longer untangled my hair?

When did it stop?
When the sun set without us?
When the walks were alone?
Or when your eyes looked away?

When did my heart stop hearing yours?
When did it stray?
When does love slip away?
When does it stop?

There must be a place where lost poems go
Those wisps of lines that slip our mind
with promises of finding paper or a rhyme

There must be a place where lost poems wait
Wandering invisibly around word gates
with flittering hearts anticipating their fate

There must be a place where lost poems meet
Those ideas we dream as we walk or sing
with hearts ready to burst with...

There...I lost it...

He looked away
After our eyes locked
He looked away
Shame for my red lips?
Shame for my heels?
Shame for my good name
Walking the streets?
He looked away
After our hearts stopped
He looked away
No shame of my red lips
No shame of my heels
No shame of my good name
Found in the streets
He looked away
What can I say?
Let’s keep it
That way
He walked away
But I had to stay
Still finding my path
With no help from a past
He looked away
My heart looked away

Near my house there's a tree
Its bark cut by your name
The ground around it marked by your steps
Its shade knows your form
Our story

Near my house there's a tree
Its roots touched by your feet
The branches shelter the air you left behind
Its leaves know your laugh
Our story

Near my house there's a tree
Where I wait for your eyes, nose, lips
To continue
Our story