In a rundown house,
On the edge of town
Where the grass is overgrown
The door’s unlocked and open,
The windows all are broke.
It’s been exactly twenty years
Since the chimney last saw smoke.

People pass by without seeing it.
Because it sits back off the road.
But when I pass by, I begin to cry.
It has a story seldom told.

Two nineteen year olds
Once planned their life
In that old abandon house.
She would bring a blanket.
He would bring the wine
They would dream about their future
Plan how they’d spend their time
Traveling to Places
Before they settled down
To raise their perfect family
In a house at the edge of town.

She would spread the blanket
He would build a fire
And long before the wine was gone
They would give in to desire
Passionate and furious
Holding on too tight
As if the dreams they shared
Were slipping
Off into the night.
As if the plans they made were
Smoke
From the fire in the room
Rising out the chimney
Into the afternoon,
Blown away by breezes,
Hidden by the clouds.
Invisible like secret fears
Never voiced aloud.

Spring turned into summer
Winter followed fall -
They began to meet less frequently
Then they didn’t meet at all.
The fire and the passion gone
The room now cold and bare,
The house at the edge of town
Unused,
But still standing there.

The memories of our teenage love
Were strong – We thought that we should meet
Once again in the vacant house set back from the street.
We set a date, but I was late
I almost didn’t go.
I sensed we were pretending;
Trying to return
Passion to a fireplace
Where the fire would not burn.

Eventually I pushed the door
And walked into the room
The fireplace had embers
As if it had burned awhile,
A bottle mostly empty
Had been thrown against the wall.
The blanket laid out smoothly,
But that was not quite all.
I saw my former lover
On the blanket dead and cold
With a note scrolled out in cursive
“I guess I should have known”
“You’re not here.  The fire’s gone. I have no need to live.
I hope that you’ll be happy -
When you finally come around
To the place we shared our love and dreams,
The house at the edge of town."

That’s the tragic story
And the reason for my tears;
The house on the edge of town
Still stands, even after all these years.
PwL  4/11/15

I heard you started smoking,
and I hope
it makes you realize
what you did to me
when you become so addicted
to something that kills you.

And when you finally
find the strength to stop,
years from now,
you'll still find yourself
missing it.

I hope you think of me when
the smoke escapes
your lungs.

-k.w// cigarettes & metaphors

You bound strong sandals on my feet,
You gave me bread and wine,
And bade me out, ’neath sun and stars,
For all the world was mine.

Oh take the sandals off my feet,
You know not what you do;
For all my world is in your arms,
My sun and stars are you.

Was I wrong?
My mind fails me
and to conjure the right words
the answers embraced nothingness
I always think
you flawed my reasoning
you were what was missing

over and over, I say
I am not mistaken or fooled
dressed in my fantasies
the idea of you and i
we will be alive
until our bones get tired
I promise.

You are a vagabond, you always were
like a migrating flock on a foreign land
again and again,
amongst all those wanders
I begin to carve on my skin.

You will find warmth in me
and you will erase all your hues
you will begin to love me

You are beautiful.
There is no denying it,
that darkness of your eyes and I could cut myself
on the line of your jaw, black stubble defying
youthful skin. Everyone sees it,
the graceful strength secreted in those
muscles, taut and lean, life lived to
challenging extremes. It is odd, this
obsession with aesthetics, your face really
means nothing and I know this, yet I can
still fall into staring at your fearful
symmetry, grace and night entwined
as you walk on unaware.

Born unto this world



With opaque angelic eyes.



Crystalline soft air, you breathed,



Vibrating with life, as strings on a harp.



And in tinkling laughter and claps of hands,



Like a firefly you lit up the world.



In pure reflective light you shined,



As if a cluster of stars had been placed



Around you, and the world had



Magically conjured, your luminosity.



You were only a little sparrow.



Who was learning how to fly,



With the gentlest spirit and kindest eyes,



But you were all too human, a blazing candle,



Which this bitter, hard rock planet



Crumpled underfoot, and you melted,



Leaving, weeping waterfalls and stone



And the unchanging shadow of your smile.