I listen
and I hear
the sound
of a radio
that is off
the station
and I don't
make a move
to fix it while
I sit here involved
neck deep in
mental *******.

there is a moment
     between the decision to make a mistake
and actually making it,
     when you think about
    
          how the power lines
               make lace spiderweb shadows on
          the sidewalk
     and how the the sunlight and
the moonlight have the same
     sparkle

and you wonder if your choice really
          matters,
because daisies will still have
     candied orange centers and
          it will still take fourteen hours to drive to
               Bangor to an airport with
                    
                    one bathroom and airtight security
          so they can take your toe nail clippers
before you board your flight home
     and realize you
          left an hour before sunset
               and somehow it's underwhelming

to be so far above the
    
sun.

there is a moment
     between the realization that you've gone too far
                    
                    and taking the step over the line

   when you see the cracking
of the pavement
   and go to buy a roll of duct tape
      because there's nothing duct tape can't fix
   so you spread a thin layer of
love and adhesive
   on the concrete
      to keep the edges of your heart from
      
                    splitting open,

               but you trip and fall into the hole
                         you were trying to bridge

and you're right back where you started
   trying not to break your momma's back
      but the gap is too wide to jump
   like those kids on the playground
tracing cloud colored circles
      in sidewalk chalk around your head
         just trying to make you understand.
            so before you decide
      
      to make that mistake
trace the lace shadows on the
     roadways and
          tape your
        heart together
     so you can draw a
staircase to understanding
                  
                 and
    
          follow a trail
       of innocent eyes
   to a place where you
       don't feel so lost.

because there are no mistakes
     only choices to make
          and now is the
               only moment
                    to make them.

Her eyes
as dark as stone,
illuminate her troubled past.

Forever shall she wither
from shame she's once had in her.

For her heart beats along,
with troubled sighs,
highlighting her brunette strands.

Goes off with what has been done,
but says what can not be heard.

Every trace of smiles thrown away,
taste as though she's out of her mind.

Red lips speak from all angles,
but not all words are formed.

We are the ones
who sit behind
clouds and mist
Fallen
Left
Trodden.

It's our skin, you explain,
it remembers every touch,
glance, action and dance

We are etched on
by our actions.

A tapestry of life
Illuminated on us.