Sometimes, it seems that everything
my heart keeps as truth
I take with me
and lock deep inside of I am sorry
as I breathe the air twisted in the places
where I sleep.  
Yet, there still exist nights
where there is no bed I can dream in
where I do not hear a melody
that feels naturally sweet.

Often,  I stand in the corner
of all I have missed
then find myself walking proudly
beside the wildest loneliness
lying deep inside of
my stubborn heart.  
Then suddenly,
my head clears inside of a silence
and I write poems
from the hands of angels
until the wildest loneliness
has to part.