Night-time grieves; an emptiness in the skies,
the ebb and flow of the sea comes to rest...

Pursuing my quest, to love myself.
Unchaining, shackles which weigh me down...

Should Cupid pass, with hand and bow
I hope he’ll purge, my heart of woe...

put yourself in my shoes
I wonder how that feels...

here
we are...

odds used as live bait
morsels for bread and butter...

My final card
I laydown...

elevated above-
my eyes south-facing...

I seek you in the woodland;
for you are the forest...

Upon waking....
My body gushed...

Again I reminisce of stories you told me..
...into the bunker...

I stood before her; looking; staring
into her image; hoping she would...