Her silence
rings
in my ears
incessantly
and outside
there are no stars
above,
the darkness
envelops me,
and all
I can hear
is crunching snow
beneath
my feet,
and all
I can feel
is a memory
of unrequited,
our broken love.

She plays with words
like marbles and jackstones
and she plays with hearts
like jumping ropes and cards.

She holds you inside of her palm
and you can feel the little earthquakes
happening inside her everyday.

She holds you inside of her palm
and when she picks up the pen and writes,
all you can read is

*you, you, you.

they look like ravens,
their sharp, curved beaks,
piercing gazes with hidden eyes
that lie behind the mask

they smell faintly of dried flowers,
but the lingering scent of death
that surrounds them completely
can never be rid of