Once, I dreamed the glossy black
grand would be gracefully center stage...

I glance back at the stoic siding and windy shafts
with reminiscence of healthier schedules...

I'm not sure what to think
when I appear at your kitchen door...

I've watched the wound grow on your heart,
depression- an angry black spot you can't rub off...

Holding the pillow with barely
any force from my fingertips...

You never walked out.
I walked out on myself...

Tonight, I found myself in a rainstorm that was...
its chest roaring with wounds inflicted upon...

It's raining in my mind-
not the kind of rain where it's impossible to hold...

Solitary limbs
Face powdered and as calm...

You have your face roughly
in the palms of your hands...

I listened to the sound of tears again,
as she entered the room and asked...

Chasing evening star,
you cup the fire of February...