Listening to Pianos become the teeth.
I'm still 13 and lying on the floor of my childhood bedroom
the rims of my eyes, underlined pink with shed tears
-
I'm not 13 anymore

A sheet of ice from the winter freeze,
Candle-lit windows, haunting trees,
Branches dancing in the subtle breeze.
A quiet earth rolls beneath my feet.

A distant light from the radio tower
Blinks on time in the late-night hour.
A star-scattered sky so still and sweet.
A quiet earth rolls beneath my feet.

Redlights ahead, road ending abrupt
Kicking rocks to keep from looking up.
Avoiding cracks in the cold concrete
as a quiet earth rolls beneath my feet

A man staggers in the streetlight glow.
He smiles because he knows that I know.
I nod and gaze down the familiar street
as a quiet earth rolls beneath my feet.

Down by the oak trees and old ball park,
The hillside hidden by the dense dark,
I hear the rushing sound of Town Hill Creek.
A quiet earth rolls beneath my feet.

It allows you there, It warms the side of your cold face,
As you shrink in the rear-view mirror’s gaze,
Its glaring presence lingers, refusing to clear,
…Stay too long and it burns you,
The orange light wraps around your collar,
Blinding me with its brightness, hiding your  smile,
I don’t want to let go,  yet it always slips away,
But now, it's no longer bright, it leaves to the night,
It's hard to remember, but I know it was there…
Only left with a blink of you…

When you smiled, your lips didn’t curve.
When you laughed, your eyes didn’t close.
When you talked to me, you were looking elsewhere.
In that moment, I knew...
You were done with me.

My days will return to blue,
And my mornings will no longer have your texts.
Perhaps it’s time for me to love myself next.
It’s time for me to burn it down because my judgment is due.

The past slips through
the gaps between my fingers,
and even the perpetual flow of tears
can't extinguish its burning sensation.
All that's left are the charred pieces
of memories long forgotten.
No—memories long sealed
within the unreachable crevices
of my fractured heart.
I see the blurred faces of the past,
and outstretched hands of the future,
but the one standing within my path
is none other than a figure of the present—
the one within the mirror.

as long as
the
stars are shining
the
lord is
my daily bread
thus
ask
the lord
for
the
shepherd's light
to
walk by faith
and
not by sight
as long
as the spirit
moves me
as long as the
stars are shining
still
towards
the
Shephard's light