The floodgates have been opened,
Love runs out of every pore,
But, without a destination,
It distorts itself to grief
And slowly seeps into the floor.

- p. winter

She came and went
  wandering from one dream
   into another
leaving behind small trinkets
  underneath his pillow

     the warmth of her smile
     the pulse of her kiss
     the ghost of her touch

and when he woke
  the autumn scent
    of her hair
      danced lightly
        in the air

he took a deep breath
  filling his lungs
   until his ribs
    nearly cracked
       apart

then exhaled
  and smiled

   a sad

    happy

      smile

and the details of the dream
  blurred and rearranged
    themselves
       and bit
         by bit
          faded into
            the memory
              of mist

she slipped down into his heart
  and made a small fire
   and kept everything warm

and waited
  waited for him

   to sleep

    to sleep

     and dream

       again

I thought if I could swallow the stars
I’d be as beautiful as the evening sky
I tried one night    with fireflies
They burned my throat
Their legs striking at soft flesh
But my skin did not glow
No moon crawled from my eye sockets
I was left with corpses in my stomach
I soon learned I would only ever be
A cemetery

I'm an athlete.
I can throw and catch,
and run in the sun-
all shiny and bright.
And you just sleep, sleep, sleep.

Look at me, mama.
I'm a writer.
I do poetry and stories,
all pretty and pink,
and all you do is,
sleep, sleep, sleep.

Look at me, mama.
I can dance.
I'm lonely,
I'll move to France,
meet a woman, and get married.
Look at the ants crawl through
the spilled red juice on
the grass, nature everywhere,
as you sleep, sleep, sleep. 

Look mama,
Look at me, mama!
I have children now,
all good and wise,
you're a grandma.
Why don't you wake up?

Please look at me, mama.
Open your eyes.
I'm lonely and afraid.
I'm old now, and cold,
and you still,
just
sleep, sleep, sleep...