Your Violet is Violent
Strength of your palm hot
on my cheeks
force like the delicate pressing of
Baby Breaths
in between pages of my heart that
is no longer filled with the obscurity of
you.

White, blank, pages, grey with
                                                            ­            eraser dust
Corroded memories of the
                                                                ­                   past
Always aching,
             longing,
for what was to become.

Only the Settling of the
owls hooting
in the Australian Dark

Rotting paper
                                                           ­       your first intake of ****

The hark of lark,

Unintentional reminders
of light
Nursing your paper heart as I
as I
as I

as I wait with *Bated Breath.