I used to want to
follow in your footsteps...
“your clavicle is the horizon
I always swim towards...
There are pieces of me
on the couch...
It was a fickle afternoon.
Up on the roof of your sixth floor apartment...
The rambling inside you continued,
while you sat in that square room...
I was suddenly cast behind the bars
crashing into a burst of missing belongings...
by Milly Hayward
This rock crushes my dying breast
weighs heavier than you could know...
I anchored my faith to you.
My feet stopped kicking cold...
I helped you cross to the other side,
where everyone said the grass was brighter...
long rain cascades
morphs into a lyrical chant...
Another tedious night has arrived
as I survived a new day...
Something in your words stands out,
whether pushed into low punctuation...