I often wished for
more of your silence...
a plucked tongue, uprooted and transplanted in
foreign lands before the seed was sown...
On some mornings I stole birds.
I opened my eyes...
See calm in me
through glass reflections...
I know how lonely,
you must feel...
My feet are mirrors of
the eggshells I've...
solitude, a magical realm
enveloped in tranquil hush...
We rest our heads together
amongst crisp packets and empty tins...
Eventually, I will
depart from this land...
There was no fog
just shades of gray...
i wish you could see through my kaleidoscopic...
my skies are forever echoing your light...
After you
I became creative...