rooms lit by storms
and midnight snow
lost
what I’ve not even
found
the scars from our dreams
sew us together
songs soft as September
whispers through the grass
your heart
more scar than tissue now
you’re scarring the scars
how the wind
hisses a sigh
through the reeds
how the sea sings
far inland
the white of a waterfall
the moon hiding half its face
I sunbathed
in your shadow
I won’t speak to you again
I will still sing to you
songs white as whispers
same frequency as ghosts
scarred skin
doesn’t collapse
when carved
the hinges of your heart
sprinkles rust like pollen
as the dark wind of your blood
squeezes through its doors
left ajar
walking with you
turned fields
into prairies
stories to temper steel to
when the story falls silent
the folds folded
asleep inside the blade
just before the kiss
push me back into the world
like ghosts do
when the living get too close
the scent of skin
too much
they push away
because they long too much
for what they’ve lost
they want you too stay
in the world
you because
you don’t want to hold
what will be lost