You speak your life in poetry.
Your heart broke like ice on the tin roof,
wide and running, over metal, overhead.
Can't be worried what these people say,
they don't breathe any higher than me.
I can't be worried about these people.
They're the same.
Night offers a dark peace to the lonely.
He washes the shame from our skins
In a still well of black on black;
He deals calming breezes
fingers full of broken promises
fall from the keys in a disarray of notes
you can't go home again
hold the hands and fireflies
tight in your mind
like grass blades