She ran away with night
stitched into the soles of her feet,
looking for someplace a world away
from her shadow.

My heart's a lake
a languid mirror

I'm still tracing the stars
with the tips of my fingers,
wondering if you found
the map I left for you.

…you were my sun, and I stared straight into you, squinting, like I wanted you to be the last thing I ever saw.

---
excerpts from forgotten journals ~2010