Last night I dreamt
that you were an
angel
and I was a
ghost.

sometimes I
wish
you could understand
that tomorrow's sickness
doesn't have to do with
the cold
or the paintings on your
fingers

you think her paleness
constitutes some sort
of forgiveness
don't you?
That touching her lightly
simply being near,
does it fix you?
repair your mind, that
grey wolf heart of yours?

you trip as a constant
over footprints I left
tiny but never lost
never lost