For some reason, these words are blocked from me,
No poems need to pour out...

Simple earnest grace
is written...

Dark sky bleeds onto the horizon,
dripping from bruises of clouds...

Rose petal eyelashes flutter;
down, down, down they go...

Hang suspended in the air,
then submerge and fall down fast...

You lay down your head
and i whisper sweet things...

Fear, rapid breathing in and out,
exhaltation of insecurities...

Inject me with this false hope,
praying that I get better; hung by silken thread...

My heart still beats for you
and you know...

These every night
broken lullabies...

Shoot the breeze
with me...

There's this street-corner word
that we all seem to need...