your flame throws bird shadows
over the walls of my heart
that have never known sky
I write to you
to keep you near me
I don’t think about the thorns
I think about the blackberries
of your love
how they reveal the labyrinths
of my fingerprints
that touches the dark
trying to find your face
close the gate gentle
make it chime
close it like a delicate thing
as if just leaving
looking in
upon a sleeping child
isn’t that how hearts
should be handled
footsteps made faint
by grass
no knock required
no doorbell
rattling the rooms
just the soft cry
of a rusted hinge
in another field
skylarks sleep
wings taking root
in the earth
ghosts aren’t only
what has been
they’re also
what never happened
echo of songs
never sung
never listened to
worn away with waking
share the snowfall
from a streetlight with you
shoulders dusted with shine
the poplars are still
silver shivers inside
ripples repeating themselves
within the pillars
of their trunks
miss the sea glass
crumbling sunlight
in your eyes
knowing fire
through the smoke
of your songs
the tantrums
of your tenderness
how your steps
slowed
to match mine
your heart
more scar than tissue now
you’re scarring the scars
the susurrus
of your lost
long song
the smoke
of my soul
the ones
who hollow you out
leave a cave
for another
to place
a candle in
your songs shriveling
to scent