Through the lines I walk by the shadow’s edge
in search of big things like love, life and a good liver.

—–

There were words that were left unsaid
between you and me that night
when the wind picked up your scent
and applied it to my brow like a balm.

Today, as I sip solitude’s bitter brew
I’m reminded once again of how life
wrote our stories. From lips we moved
to letters. From letters we moved to love.
And from love we moved to loneliness.

——

Empty is this page like the song
on the radio. I blink and the world
stops to let a tear trace its transparent
track down a dust scarred cheek.

——

The other day I found you staring back
at me from a tiny photo. That bright flash
of near perfect teeth that once used to
soothe the hunger of the darkness inside.
That white light of nights scented by your smile.

Isn’t it a wonder? This loss of laughter.
This desperate need for nostalgia.

——

This cold is a comfort for the abandoned.
In her icy embrace memory is transformed
into a fresh layer of snow, formless and featureless.
Those few who can forget are the luckiest. For
remembrance is a curse. A curse of the soul
left behind to mourn the memory of all that could have been.