Reaching, at the divide,
where moments are endeavors,
with sound, a say, tucked away.
Where rain, meets eyelids,
drips down a face, shared
like webs, all wrapped ‘bout hearts,
keeping warm, and together.
The pieces of a damaged moment,
a murk in the room. Stage what I can,
give the rest back to what belongs,
meet you at the heart of the vapor.
If found, please return to sender…
Thoughts owed to me, after a night,
of gamboled traces, stored fingerprints,
adorned to a frame.
A poem of tongues and heart, to palm,
touched there; it was going to hurt,
worse than anything felt before.
the time of tears has long passed—
the remains are words you have
stapled to every wall leaned close—.