Crumpled pages
Feathers of a painful memory
Each haphazard fold calls upon two tears, one laugh
Regret and sugar hand in hand

Years later, an echo fogs my windshield
I wipe them away with the tips of my fingers
The thoughts come away humid onto my palm
They have a slumber of angst there--
No matter how much I wring my hands, they won’t depart

The wind tastes like dark chocolate
Bitter yet sweet
I float away on a winter breeze, not knowing what calls me
I only know I must answer.

No comments:

Post a Comment

in the wake of light, your words bring me more(please, do leave your fingerprints behind, so I may relish the image of our hands after you go.)