Torn newspapers
littering the sunset
idle cranes lining the guilty sky
by the glowing harbor
Open mic night
you walk in
to the room
& no-one notices
except me
& your friend
invisible, until you read
& your voice is like an epiphany
the homeless man outside
is singing a tune
perhaps
perhaps a little child
somewhere is falling asleep
in her mother's arms
perhaps somewhere
love is being found
but between us
there is only silence
& you do not even know
that it is me
in front of you
& if you did
it would be worse
because
my ragged heart
for you is something
to be scarred