words
loose-limbed...

No, I will not burn
this poem...

why do you ache
in heavy strokes of despair...

you come
with sudden rain...

I still see you
at the bend of yesterday...

like metaphors
undeciphered...

I want to
cut loose the moon...

The old house on the hill sits empty
its still structure a thousand tongues of silence...

No more grey-edged yesterdays
brimming monotony...

The day morphs, takes its bow
twilight bleeds crimson...

Raindrops descend,
ruthlessly pounding...

I thought
they would blossom...