I dug up forty five holes
With the countenance
Of a widow in mourning.
I planted you in the dirt
With the continence
Of a monk praying.

My sinful soul
Is fertile soil.

I've planted  forty five dreams
In this piece called "heart"
I've been watering it with tears and hopes
And still
Forty  five touches
Won't bring you here in my life.

I have forty five dreams where I kiss your skin
And there are forty five light million
years
Between your eyes
And mine and my smile.

There's a storm inside me
it starts every time I hear your laughter in the night,
when I think about the way we changed
from human beings
to some people who can only share
some words written on a cold page;

it's hard to explain how is it that I miss you
when I've never really had you in the first place
and you wouldn't understand
you see
your heart has long forgotten about feelings like these.

still

I hear your voice calling my name
I see you before my eyes
even in my dreams I write you in bleeding lines
and in my waking hours
your smile brings raindrops in my coffee
and tears on the shirt I wear
because once you said that you liked it;


spring brings tulips at my doorstep
but it's hard to feel their perfume
to let their scent in my broken lungs;

people tell me that all I have to do
is breathe



but it's hard to breathe without crying.

His eyes were gleaming
in her wake; black and white
yet holding all of the colours she could see.
If it was possible for eyes to refract
in prismatic glory, his did,
and only for her.
Her hair, blowing
in front of her eyes and half obscuring
her wild laugh,
being brushed aside by a straying,
tender hand. They tried
to stay so solemn, so serious,
but they couldn't help it.
Love like that, when it shines like that...
It can't be dimmed.

Today
A child of nature walked out under the bare sky
for the first time since she broke

The Sky,
So joyed to be able to see her beauty,
began to weep a wondrous rain storm

But
The girl thought The Sky was upset
and hid back under car hoods and roofs once again

Its Tears
Flooded the world as The Sky wept harder,
wondering when its kin would return

The girl,
So beautiful that she was comparable to the sky,
would hide away until she would be fixed

Next spring,
She would try to be a part of nature again
but this spring she must heal before she can blossom