on an account of being mardy,
these sincere words will not
be exposed. nor, fall from my mouth
and land at your feet.

while mine storm through rivers
every settled pebble swirls about
like every thought, every question.

my error, left in a translucent
body of unclear directions.
your silence, left in a flaming pit
burning in my gut.

knowingly enough, everything
will fall to the bottom
and there it will rest.
every pebble, every ash.