Her heart broke in fractions
It took time to mind
Whilst her world was crashing
She cleaned her plate to mine

The scraps left from debt
Remnants of a feast
Shreds that I’ll collect
And painfully admit It feeds me.

And when her hands are clean
And the mess seems far away
I’m left to reconstruct
From sifting through a memory

They gather in the parlor
Living the best,
Sharing the worst
She felt the need to live
As I never was

And what am I to write about
Once blame and anger passes
Passages that twist perception
are now without a precedence

Erosion left behind
Room for pain to grow
I’m to believe in change
And with my unsoiled hands
**** the seeds you sowed?

Honey,
I’m left fitting pews,
And filling words upon a tombstone.


I’ve amassed a fortune
Of doubts, thoughts and analogies
Forgetting we were all once fools
Reminding souls of forgotten dreams

A dying flame, that draws the weary
Answers soft voiced questions
With T’s to dot, she eyes the cross
Finding blessings she forgot to mention

Blue/Green flames are those we tend,
Tend to last and remember
I placed my will outside of reach
To draw the fleeting to the dying embers

Purgatory is sprouting tulips
Dante’s returned home
But honey,
I’m left fitting pews,
And filling words upon a tombstone.