Tell me a story,
tell me everything about your days,
the ones that had you laughing into the
never ending, hazy sunsets,
the nights that tore your soul to pieces,
only to leave you void and alone in the
decaying moonlight.
Tell me, please. I would love to just know,
every single idiosyncrasy that
defined your being.
Whisper it shyly if you must,
into the fridgid Winter air that
bites briskly at my cheeks,
in the hollowness that reverberates off
of this desolate city’s streets,
while everyone tucks in early.
Speak slowly, please,
through the melting ice, dripping
onto the pavement while you
help awaken Spring.
Sing a simple song through the
birds rediscovering life,
mutter a word in the commotion
of a typical weekday commute,
plant the seeds of memories,
to bloom in Summer heat
and unnoticeably appear to me.