I'll never get to see two pink lines,
or even loath the sickness...

Your poor, chapped lips -
they flake, crumble and peel...

She
whispers...

Poetry haunts her -
her veins are channels...

No one envisions the beauty
traveling holds until the sun...

Just one call,
A hello baby...

Hands to hips,
fingers sightsee across...

Wild flowers blooming,
freshly picked dewy blackberries...

Jet black hair,
snow white skin...

Wintery nights always remind me of our first date,
Showers of snow surrounded us as we were walking...

Dust particles rain like confetti
onto the covers of neglected books...

One night, when the countdown
to sunrise began...