At the cusp of two rivers in death I chose
To forget...

I can smell the pages burning,
Like a memory descended...

Wishes are simply
stars that have fallen astray...

The thought of those words
betrayed me not...

Not all plants raise
Against the battered season's plea...

I recall that day in November
You held a ladder out for me...

Words are deeds passed between
Hands and hair...

Here I stand
No war won, no future crime...

Hiding softly indoors for the snow to settle,
The flurry varying its intensity...

I spin at the thought
Oh that this crystal could shatter...

I wait in the interstice of us
Argus-eyed and protective...

I want a love undeclared
Implicitly at the edge of your fingertips...