The orange poem
wanted to blunt the white...

The feel, it hurts
when you...

A sniper was around.
I did not want to rush...

Attending to my laments,
reading a poem to myself...

Doing nothing, for no
obvious reason, engaging...

Talking of obscenity
you were undressing...

A ghost truth
levels down...

From window to window?
a search begins...

The who was
inside you...

Come to me
like never ending pain...

I was not afraid of legacy
seeking out a collateral...

I will color
the sky, grieving for the...