What if I told you your secrets,
The ones you never tell--
lime green off the tree
at the edge of our
laughter, whispering words almost
abandoned.  Love is the way you hold my hand.

We are listeners, you and I, tracing
back the conversation, almost to its
beginning,  sharing the cost
of fear, if that's what it is, where it
begins, this knowledge of each other.

Do you look away afraid?
I do.  You live in the future,
of what might be my soul:  possible?
Give me your pleasure,
Permit me in your story, face to face.
Come, come to my bed.

I remember the evening
that we sat clinging
to paper cups
of coffee gone cold

over secrets spilled and memories told
two bodies cursed
with hearts grown old

behind your eyes
I found new worlds
A winding road stretched out for miles
to a small cafe at the end of the isle

Sweet pastries filled the mouths
of those who sat beside us
and stayed for a while.

How the hours went by,
people just passing through
The descending sun ending
a forever with you.

I want to first thank
my heart

for letting go

And second
my hands

For growing tired
of tirelessly reciting
memories of you.

I’ve long grown quiet.

My heart,
no longer sings for you.

My pen,
no longer bleeds
for you.

Your love was the bloodstream of my words;
The echo of my heart’s song.

Though I am at
a loss for words,
I have learned
to listen close.

Christine reached Knoxville overnight,
Gone missing in a stolen car.
Her friend, a fifteen year-old boy,
Took turns along the interstate,
Warm night enhanced by felony.
Her mother gets the call. She's found.
Drives down with dad they've not seen much
Since things went bad a long way back,
A fractured family like all
The others underneath the smile.

Rough endings somehow fade, and how
We laughed grows stronger.  Tears you cried
When he was gone reminded my
Rough hands how soft to hold a love
And not insist on anything.