Deadheading
You argue the blooms still
alive when we both see
brittle ghosts hovering
over twisted roots,
translucent petals pink
as the time wine
stained our lips, bed
an excuse to day
dream...
Once More in the Depths
I miss you, blue-haired boy, vanished againlike the ripple of a skipped stone. I havenever understood your leaving— a thingthat...
