Monthly Archives: November 2015

fuel like fire

there’s nothing left of what was. just handfuls now, almost-dust and never-enough. you hide them in boxes labeled “things I could love” only to bury them when winter comes. the steel-hard ground gives no comfort or thanks, instead demanding tribute … Continue reading

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this day is as new as the bud of you,  tightly furled,  easing into reluctant half-bloom. the thought that I could hold is you is a memory now,  stained red and faded from years that passed  without daring to breathe … Continue reading

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