Wistful wisteria
lays in wait...

All those summers,
when innocence...

Grace knows
Grace knows...

When the dark
waters of complexity...

She who puts herself together
with perfection is hiding the secret...

It was a grand gesture
to go to the store...

We were everywhere
and now we’re nowhere...

As the world continued to spin
around the sun in an endless...

It was the week of the phone
in my hand, holding...

This poem existed
in the future...

The week between tinsel
and fireworks, where time is...

I was called to go in,
go in and find the small sky...