words fall
like ashes from cigarettes
and i am left
wanting for more.
there's this despondency
this hint of madness in me,
when you, with that wistful nod,
refuse to let me in.

and i wait again,
for the sun to melt
my frozen world.
i think i understand
why you cannot open these doors,
the way you understand
what lies beyond mine.

and there will be days
it won't rain
when the wind will
no longer howl
there will be days
with no poetry
or the fire of
all-consuming desire.

do let go then,
and tell me of your dreams
as i lie beside you
in wide open fields
and let me weave in stars
again, in our forgotten skies.