Softhearted,
her tears travel...

Instead of uttering a phrase
that promises better time...

A single stroke and her frailties are forgotten,
brushed into a peaceful pool of imperfection...

Even at a tender young age,
she blossoms beautifully...

I never accepted the sunrise because each heave...
would only burden me with flashbacks of light...

My kinship: cultivators of bays and shorelines,
abstract climbers of mountain sides near the sun...

A heart, is an epidemic of truth
where I'm left scattered...

Will you come in the form of a star?
All I ask for is someone...

His midnight voice
melts the tension...

I wilter as a hidden flower,
crushed among your notebooks...

I sing a breath unto morning's mist
a miracle fresh, a wish I have kissed...

If there were no more suns to circle the world.
no flight for angels to test out their wings...