There is a walk I know, among the trees How much you always loved the solitude The dry, fallen leaves cracking beneath our feet An
Category: Poetry & Prose
Becoming
In this I have become Plucked from sanity’s embrace Ungrounding, unfurled Wrought from fever and disgrace In each step through Cinder and ash, my becoming
This Room
In this room, is one of four walls Where there once contained A great picture window I would stare as the sun shone through At
Meant To Be
I walk these streets That we once shared Through neon’s glow Window shop curiosities Remind me What it is I’m looking for As others pass
Another Corner
It took so long For you to walk away You never stopped Looking back I think I even heard A mumbled, regretful I love you
The Garden
Dangling on the wrong side of yesterday Searching for what I never had, within what’s left Waiting for meaning in sun-bleached tomorrows That never come
