Nostalgia used to claw under
my skin like dull razors...

Lub dub... lub dub... Lub dub...
You quickly became the drum...

Expectation is a starved wolf
wandering a desolate...

Trepidation permeates my
every thought...

Does the chilly November air snuff out my breath?
Or am I a fool for thinking that I could breathe...

You threw a spark that
caught my skin on...

I used to think you were the
marble pillars at the...

Even my blankest
pages speak...

You caught me unaware-
lured me in with your honey-dipped...

I will erect statues;
in every park...

July has arrived with heated
winds and cheery...

Take my pen;
I have no need for empty words...