He etched my smile in
finger tipped blood carvings...

Exhausted outlines,
dipped in dying...

I once sank to the bottom of an ocean,
tickled the sea with a sent of curiosity...

Mourning
hushes altered...

She doesn't read the words
I etch onto paper...

There is a women who
Lingers in thoughtless...

She has become a thunderstorm of light
casting shadows during an owlets cry...

She Is the wind of endless possibilities
a romantic sunset, where light kisses dark...

Collecting thoughts-
like stars inside a child's hand...

She wore scarlet,
draped in velvety...

He lost his
Shelia, upon a crisp...

Fleeting voices inside my head
drummers of chaos, whispering...