in the corner of my head
as I’m busy with things
seems I just can’t shed
my hanging broken wings

He'll always be
night sweats in the sheets
broken sleep
the tingling in my feet

He’ll always be
in the swirling autumn leaves
I chase but cannot catch
He’s a rogue, a tease
an itch I cannot scratch

He’ll always be
popping in and out
dancing in the shadows
traveling about
bringing me the lows
that I can’t bang-out

He’ll always be
a cardinal on my windowsill
a blanket of April snow
burying this sweet rose til
I bleed into the snow