Some days don't
want to be loved
as the clouds move
with the dead of grey
my mind shifts within
a mist of questions
they are written across
the night sky between
the stars and my
blinking eyes in those
dark and lonely spaces
of the heart
some days don't
want to be loved
with the last slice of light
I'll feel the
sharpness of its edge
I'll drink wine with the
anxious gods and the
ghostly strangers in this
mirror of memories
I’ll find words that are
worth remembering …
Clay.M