Thursday, December 12, 2013

How perfect we could be:
Loveless and free.


Soft eyes in the morning
Heavy arms resting still
Your grey hairs and smile: honest
Stirring as the day unfurled

Now the mornings ache
and the nights they moan
Too bright, then too dark
Two empty spaces, blank and then cold

The leaves are turning back into dirt
With them my heart falls still
Footprints and memories
Less than an echo, you're an empty space to be filled.