Monday, November 9, 2015

Order

There has to be
an order, she tells
me in the pastel
room of her death,
the heat filling up
our small place,
There has to be
a purpose, she 
mutters on her
breath and I count
them, try to hold
on to them, bottle
them, as they 
seep out one by
one by one.

Palace

I have created
a palace in my
mind to go back
to, where life
was simple, a rainy
autumn day
on which I had no
worries for all this,
where no one
spoke ill of me,
spread rumors,
tried to tie me
to the rules,
where I could
play and run like
a child
because I was
a child.

Splinter

I found a shard
of you and realized
it had slipped
out, so I jammed
it back in, twisted it
to feel you again,
then looked at
your picture while
I felt this pain.

Robert League