Tipsy by evenfall
I sprouted on your lavender...

Whenever a heart
bursts asunder...

I realized, that poetry
is not my mother-tongue...

If the night knew
how much they talk...

You surrendered -
on a day that did not...

Never did I expect my favorite
blanket to lose its threads or...

Being lonely gives time to think
Time, which may pass within one wink...

With loss at hand you sprawl bones
half naked into blurry nights and on behalf...

Romancing about three empty verses,
that warpaint every piece of me...

Ocean of fir trees
nictating small ice crystals...

I can no longer enjoy
the calm landscape...

Cattails stray between garbage cans,
empty beer bottles and sleeping bags...