Memories
underneath my bed
photos of my childhood
slowly fading lies
–
an old cigar box-
sacred relics
of my youth
underneath my bed
photos of my childhood
slowly fading lies
–
an old cigar box-
sacred relics
of my youth
home with my regrets
I should have asked for a kiss
when I had the chance
–
your upturned lips-
moths flutter
in the porch light
his paper thin skin
stretched across arthritic hands
so easily bruised
–
a spreading elm-
our initials
overgrown
a shattered windshield-
shards of broken promises
spread across the road
–
text messages-
driving past what
used to be a car
the wind on the dunes-
playful fingers turning the
pages of my book
–
wet towels-
bare feet
on my dash
april’s robin song-
the morning moon rolls over
and kisses the sun
–
cat at my feet-
your back warm
against my chest
in the line of fire
standing while the others fall
I am bulletproof
–
rising smoke-
the doe startled
bounds away
staring down into
another empty bottle
devoid of answers
–
august sun-
tumbleweeds across
a dry creek
a candle and spoon-
the bare bulb above her head
casts a harsh shadow
–
on the corner-
slowing headlights
catch the rain
canadian geese
on the way to warmer climes-
cloudless autumn sky
–
mottled light-
kits in their den
below the forest floor