Hazy street lamp light,
illuminating nocturnal spirits or otherwise
the ghost of a fire burning low,
all green tinder and ember,
its tender lain down
for the night.

It's nights like these that make feelings of regret creep out of the shadows,
they come in through the cracks in the walls and the space beneath the door and crawl into the crevices in my bones and the pockets of space in my heart that used to be filled by you.

I wrap myself in the words you used to say, reread the messages you used to write and surround myself with the gifts you used to send back when I thought I was special...
back when you made me feel special.

It's nights like these when I can't help but imagine how much warmer I would be if I was in your arms, how much easier I would sleep knowing that I'd be waking up to you: your smile, your jokes, your touch...

But instead of sleeping, my mind continues to replay the moments,
the days,
the weeks,
the weeks and the ******* the months that led to this point, my mind is stuck trying to decipher where things went wrong and trying to determine how we got here and trying to find a way to ask "can we go back?"



I want to go back.

At night the stars seem far away,
But through the dark is light and day.

stumble in the door
exhausted

strip
no teeth
no pyjamas

half-naked and shaking
curl up in bed

and continue to lie

Ruby Red, Ruby Red
sweet voice in the cab,
slowly land as my fingers unfold;
freeing the steering wheel.
It’s like I’m in motion,
to catch the rainbow bird that beats its wings
to the song that you once had showed me.
Ruby Red, Ruby Red,
your smooth velvet lipstick
is pressed upon my wildest dreams,
and has painted me pink
.
Tender breath, sensual mist,
dancing upon heavy eyelids
warmed up and fluttering towards the sun,
that’s rising through my windshield.
Ruby Red, Ruby Red,
the city, it's called again.
I’ll tell you all about it,
if you visit me again.
Ruby Red, Ruby Red,
won’t you stay a little longer?
The show is better with you pulling the strings
upon my driftwood mind.
Ruby Red in my head,
you’re a sweet lost fabrication
placed at the center of my table
by the watching stars.
Ruby Red you’re in my head
You are the color of passion;
gone when the morning sun
breaks past the horizon.

Wineglass

An hour to midnight
     low lit lights
     gentle undertones

    stained clouds of moisture
in a glass of wine
as thick
         as ripe layers of fog.

hums of symphonies,
          swells of low pitched voices,
              crescendos of conversation.

     murmurs, whispers of fine China
      and the newest editions of
       oil paintings from Italy

                                      Midnight at the gallery

Once
clear glass, stained with
lipstick and breath --
     Laughter, light and
     undertones of ripe berry
lingered on the tip of glass.  

eyes wandering
over canvases of
lavish art
While stained clouds
of  moisture

are as thick as
ripe layers of fog.

I listen to the sounds of the breeze
I focus deeply upon its hum as it travels through the atmosphere.
It drifts past my ears creating a humanly like voice
I attentively tilt my head.
What that last phase was...I cannot be sure.
Yet I lift my body up attentively and look out into the night.