A sherbet horizon
made in hunger and angst
that swallows the sun
and her breath
as she whispers soft-lipped words
that will crack the ocean
White November feeds pain
gently resting on my shoulders
melting with snowflakes
that shimmer like pennies
in the bottom of
a wishing well
with your silent heart
That I once wished would beat
beaten and emblazoned
with tears and guts
it is not a pretty place
in my head or outer space
where there is emptiness and fire
and evaporating screams
from quiet cosmonauts