There are some things that we just give up on.
Hearts shift with the passage of time—
Like a kite caught in the breeze
We fly and reach up for higher sunshine
But we fall when our wind runs out.

I sat down with my paper and couldn’t
Even touch it. I saw blank space
Before me – and blank space
It remained. Time took my hand
And didn’t let go, pulling me
Out of my chair and away
From my desk – the words tried
To catch up with my speed, but I
Was already gone.

I sat down again – wordless,
But determined. The paper stretched
Out before me, still white and
Utterly unmarked. I reached for a
Pen, a pencil, anything—
And then I felt the cold hand of time,
Its pull insistent, its presence
Eternal. It took my hand
And whispered promises of
Idle happiness that I
Knew would take me far

Far away
From the writing.

The words didn’t even try to keep up
As my kite plummeted and
My heart changed.

The paper stretched out white and silent on my desk.

In a simple explanation,
I love you.
No fabulous detail
Of extraordinary
Measure,
Just a simple
Leap
Of
Faith
For three simple words
Of divine simplicity
And inexorable complexity
To draw near
With a whisper
Of a spoken song
From the eternal choir
In my singular spirit
That joys
In the essence of
You
And shouts
Once more
And forever
With a final
Leap
Of
Faith
The words that may never
Be enough,
But here I am
Saying simply:
I love you.

Kiss
Me
Once
More
Before
I
Say
Goodbye,
Dear.
But
Wait—
Your
Touc­h
Is
Not
Mine.
It’s
At
These
Moments
I
Remember
That
You
Went
Fir­st—
I
Am
The
One
Who
Follows.

I am you, your Wing-swept Bird,
That Melancholy Dream
Perched on your
Windowsill,
Ready to
Go.

Take
My Light-Feathered
Song
And bring me back with a
Kiss
Of a Gentle Dream we had
Up
In the Air That Rests
Silent.

Take
Me away,
Dancer, and
Sing of Me, My
Lullabies that let Go—
With a sigh—My heart.

She woke up this morning
in her cigarette ashes
and found last night’s late pleasure
still stretched out on her bed—

How remarkable that
a single blue-eyed boy
could take just one look
of hers and have her
in his chains the next.
Willingly, of course,
but does it really make
a difference with the heart?

The heart which
tore out of her open chest,
latched firmly to his
and made a scene painted
with love in her
one-room apartment.

Her fingertips reached out
for his bare back—
warm to the touch,
and full of promises.