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She awakes to a strange chill Even though the summer rain has long stopped drumming on the roof tiles The tear tracks are still visible where they'd been left She feels like today is just not a "right day" The wrong side of the bed is calling her She won't look at her phone because she thinks she knows The blizzard That must surely be hiding behind that innocuous "beep" She will let it pass Because there doesn't have to be right or left And she will forge straight on Until the roar of the storm is just a whisper in the distance

Today. Yestertomorrowday. All the hours blending together into one long never-ending... line. Perhaps railroad tracks. I am just falling through the cracks. That I made, many memories back. But we were not just a pitfall. So I will patch up these ripped seams, And then we can pretend this dress was never here. The closet is overflowing. I'm chasing the skeletons out tonight. I can no longer pretend not to see them.

I'd thought of sleeping through the rain on this faceless day But the past encroaches on my moment of peace So I wander through the drunk field It leaves earth stained upon my feet I stare at a graying sky that stares back at me I stumble along a path that is no path because I know that someday, someplace - I will find that road that leads me to where I should be

Today's daylight was lazy - drifting away, Disappearing into the rainclouds, Alongside the gentle whirring of a lone pinwheel That still brightly saluted that sunless sky. Little pinwheel, do you know? When the dark clouds will peel away, To release that butterfly blue sky beneath? Little pinwheel, the memories of summer breezes Gone and gone again Keep twirling through your rainbow blades. On and on. Slow, fast. And then slow again.

It's floating and it's falling, an empty shell It hits the ground It's colours and meaning Unfortunate To have ended up this way. It's washed up and it's far away Another day We will walk together across the sand And find that it lingers on our feet Between our toes An echo, footsteps that should have been there, But were not. These days, it feels like everything is peeling off, Coming undone Like inside out, like tick tock. Like something somewhat lost Inside a foggy memory Of Sunday. Which Sunday was it? That day, that uncertain day, Who was it who locked me out of myself? And why, Am I back here again?

Secrets leak out from the cracks in the paint Stains that you never though I'd see. Neither did I, I trusted you, But they are here now, glaringly. Mocking me. What a facade! To insist on falling apart, Right when we, both, Needed it most. What a way, To be forced to let go. Falling, To land amongst the debris of both our hearts.

Little minaret, Don't scrape the sky alone. Let me live in your heart, Let me atone, For cracks in the foundation, For the cuts in your stone. Cloud-wreathed spire, Your world could be more than that teaspoon of grey. Bear me up vain stairways, And at the demise of day, Let me light you up inside, Let me stay.

You are dreaming, Butterfly. You love an illusion whose petals will fall when the sun leaps off the edge. Tomorrow, dawn will cast a cruel glow Over my discarded finery, And you will pass over this plain yet longing heart.

. 2.8. the texture of my missed sunrise wrapped in amber arms and a smirk fluxing in the newborn light: I'd've flung myself in arms that begged to hold me           if I'd known they were there I'm staring into your distance, someone singing in my buttoned ears —chops for my cubical existence wandering mind there's cement beneath us in springtime, still cold to the touch of jean-clad cheeks, this tank top rag doll folded into your lanky figure, patient for day I'm trapped,     sometimes, in fleeting shadows—moments that shouldn't feel like midwinter sun taunting, glaring winds tangling the air, hair falling in your sol