I stole your seat,
you called me "Uncomfortable...
Years ago....
Words would traffic jam within...
I want soft candlelight and deep conversations;
Paired with warm blankets as soft as our laughter...
Yes, I still hear your voice
echoing in those former alleyways...
The sun begins to bow
As the candlelight vigil begins...
somewhere deep under
there’s a poet in me...
I remember
you backed me...
I remember
the touches...
I like to play
with scissors...