The gardenias bloom
All at once
Circling the silent pond
That sits still
Like fluid glass
Rimmed with silver

A restless interval
Of obligatory time
We sit and stare
At the cold, tiled floor.

Lights flicker
In the depths of our eyes
Whenever we stop staring
And glance at the door.

Distraught
My senses seem to be everywhere

The early morning rain hasn't stopped
But the sun's golden arrows
Pierce through the wet curtain of raindrops
The leaves are gilded with golden dust
Washed away by the lazy rain
Replenished by sunlight

Someone calls me to the dining hall
The crunch of gravel
Rings in my morning ear
The slapping pelts of water
Against the fabric of the umbrella
Such a wholesome breakfast
Of nature's loveliness
All gone
Unregistered
In this confusion
Of a morning

Suddenly something passes by
In the mirror of her glassy eyes
And I see myself, bare of any disguise
I see the world, it's fire and ice.

Shaken to the very core
I rush for the exit door
But find that I
Have never been let inside.

Your very own
Outcast.

Matted hair
Sticking to their cheeks
Closed eyes
Looking at
The darkness within

A broken smile
So warm on my senses
Gunshots heard
From the unknown distance

The tears have long dried
Now
They only smile.

Days come
And days go
But the narrow gravel path
In front of my house
Remains empty

With her head on the pillow
She could still see
A small patch of silver woven in twilight
And shadowy pale forms
Dancing in the empty room
Whenever
She turned her head