A star
like a spotlight stared-into
that remains inside your eyelids,
always slightly-off center,
triggered a reflex
a memory from a non-specific epoch
Practically erased
by the sweeping dull
and he mouthed the words
without breath
"Are you coming home?"

Crying Lessons

Borrowed feelings
like a stranger's funeral procession
interrupting a marriage proposal -
Poorly timed -
sometimes life needs a strong division,
borders to remind us how to feel.
But I am not one to speak -
Everything I've written has been a list of
things I don't believe in
and I don't want you to read that.
I want to pay attention
to details.
Let's be honest:
I don't even know what color your eyes are,
having been rendered colorblind
by an all-white apathy;
snow floating down
in the most unpicturesque way-
this seems a failure
- I can't even picture it myself
without adding a cabin and trees,
light in the window, someone to not
disappoint -
Which may be what I'm lacking -
Everyone here is waiting for everything
to fall down.
I just want to lay down in a field
some imaginary meadow I'm sure
I could find given the time and motivation
and not need anything
except everyone
et cetera.
* * *