Deep kisses.

and opened
wounds
to lick
and heal.

ghosts
of lesser
things.

lost and
found
in the
night.

cold bedroom
blankets.

no lover's
toes
to tangle
with and
dance,

no imagination
left to
paint the
watercolor
dreams
of your
youth.

and fear
shows
it's pinioned
yellow
teeth.

and it's
loneliness
bursts
through
you with
all its
might.

and love
is now
a fallen
fruit
rotting
from
the vine

for the

blackbirds

to pick at

and carry on.

and your
whispers
are pledges
of hope

etched in

blood
to the
night..

and I
pray
that God
will
hear you.

and that

the time
is coming
soon.

as the sun

watches you

on this hill

as you
sit.

looking for
faith at
2 o" clock
in the
afternoon.

both eyes
opened
wide.