I want to be anonymous,
a silhouette against the glass,
the shadow in the hall,
warm breath on the back of your neck.

As soft as an owl feather,
and as quiet as it’s wing,
water slipping over smooth rocks,
and the creature that waits unseen.

I want to be a dream,
the kind that you can’t remember,
that leaves a taste in your mouth,
and haunts you like a whisper.

You will try to grasp me,
but like sand I will slip away,
leaving your hands colder than they were before, a feeling you’re going insane.

Just when you think the light is on,
that every shadow has been seen,
that is when you will forget me,
just like a bad dream.

I’ll paint you a sky,
blue, purple,
grey,
blush pink.
I’ll paint you a skyline,
tall buildings, lights,
fog,
to soften it.

I’ll paint you a city,
bustling, bright,
alive,
breathing.
I’ll paint you a street,
white lines, yellow
cars,
speeding.

I’ll paint you a house.
brick, old,
cold,
crumbling.
I’ll paint you,
hair down, eyes open,
gazing,
at the horizon.

Holly leaves this time of year,
red splashed on green walls.
I miss the snow, my dear.
She always fell so gently.

You bet all your money on a lame horse,
and cried when it never came through.
You trust so much in miracles
that you forget to trust yourself,
and perhaps that is where
I have let the candle set fire to the
scented parchment,
where I wrote my confessions down
and sealed it with red lipstick;
for you my love,
always for you,
but never soon enough or quite
bold enough,
and you want freedom as much
as I do but,
you never seem to believe
in anything but the fire,
and that includes me.
So here we are,
where the candle lies and,
I find the smoke stings my lungs as much as everyone says.
So you wanted to build a house
and put everything you love into it.
You thought you had the lucky numbers in your pocket but you forgot,
that your ticket’s in the bedroom,
next to the candle,
and the lipstick stain.

Drip
drip
drip,
the water droplets,
on the old claw foot bathtub,
with the rusted pipes,
drip
drip
drip,
echoing through the room,
like a voice,
or a heartbeat,
drip
drip
drip
the hallway is empty,
the old stone house,
like a memory,
drip
drip
drip,
and the water is lukewarm,
always.