These hands held a candle
beneath you, hoping to rekindle...

You left me unmasked,
unguided and unprotected...

Weaving my way through littered alleyways
which separated the past and the future...

Perhaps this will be the only poem
I will ever unclothe with sadness...

She sat beneath
her rose ice-cream tree...

Broken eyes look heavenwards
trying to find peace within a glass bed...

On mornings like this one,
with the birds silent...

You used to tell me
my words were sweeter...