All my connections are dry
Just like bugs working street lights in vain
Arms folded over my chest hoping to -
slow my angry heart
A script without a thespian to play the part
The candle succumbing , drowning in
liquid wax
Mind under four sided attack
Boxcars without engines lie dead on the tracks* ....

i thought i had
a tattoo of our
love somewhere
deep inside me
but maybe our
passion was
ink from a pen
a heart shaped
drawing on the
surface of my
pale skin that
a river of tears
washed away
after all those days
I begged and begged
for you to stay
and you didn’t