Perhaps to fade slowly, in the passing
Of the stars, or the cars, or the constellations
That I fortuitously tell out of whim, is to lose you
With one single breath of a withered tulip, a world of lilac dresses
...
I shall declare as if, “The night is lost,
And the child froze by the park bench.”
...
Walking, with pearls on his fingers,
One for each ear
...
Perhaps, the best defense
Is to keep shut, shunned, marred
...
A cognizance,
Forged with regret
Is like a blizzard,
With tears for snow
...
Morning Sun collide
That crashes on the surface
Of the skyline’s chest
...
Opaque room,
Heavy pillows,
Impending doom,
Marching bellows
...
Commit me to memory, like I own you
Like the last of the raindrops in the consequent Summer,
And the foliage anew by Autumn,
Commit me to memory, though I do not own you
...
2922 days under your horizon,
Within your space, your winter
I can outlast cold,
I can surpass withers,
...
Tell me, do I look naked to you?
And vulnerable? A hapless target
Whilst you mumble the subterfuge?
I am your vacillating, insipid mourner.
...