You told me again
and again...

Nice things always
break...

The sky is caught
behind the clouds...

when you tell me that
I'm beautiful...

I ache
for...

It seems
you still creep in...

if
I had to...

I feel I am slipping away.
I fade...

The clouds sweep over the mountains
like thick cottonwood seeds...

On a stormy Sunday,
when I'm eating chocolate kisses...

Winter warmth
felt icy, so I ran...

It's dark out
and it seems...