I know the pain you feel is deep,
your want from life is simple peace.
And though I cannot guarantee,
please listen closely, as I speak.

Presently you stroll alone,
searching for a hand to hold.
You feel your sorrow in your bones,
in harshest sun, you still feel cold.

Pre - dawn, however, is darkest night
that must be followed by morning light.
I pray you won't give up the fight,
the universe will set things right.

I know at times, it seems unclear
that happiness is always near.
But wholly I believe my dear,
someday soon, you'll find some cheer.

silence and sunflower seeds
a salt-encrusted SUV
mid-afternoon-winter-sun.
she ties her fists in slender knots,
and i fiddle with the **** on the radio.

we talk about burns and
the sick scent of nostalgia mixed
with wine in a cardboard box mixed
with empty pockets,
the way crumbs and lint on fingertips can induce such ache.

as she speaks a part of me wonders at the complexity of human relationships, at how meaning between people muddles and
how moments like these right here right now separate whole centuries of time.
i think about walking through forests made of paper trees and having a knack for noticing what could have been.
i imagine her lying in bed late at night,
her mind a metronome measuring out notes of deprecation,
sandpapering all her holed up bits of pride.
i bet sometimes during those barely-awake moments
she feels like an orphan.

but now, right now
right now.
beneath a ***** windshield and
surrounded by bundled up, brick facades
she hides behind glossy brown hair
and faded skinny jeans.
she has pink keys in her lap
but nowhere to go,
and she tells me about emptiness in words she knows i barely understand.

her tired eyes throw salty fists into space.