With time
they dissipate

no harm
but some broken thought

ash-tray philosophies; you
have a lungful

of sorrows.

Take a long look at the road
you walked past and wonder of
how many stops you made
and how many you had to take.

(Was the meter still running
when you had me waiting outside
your house waiting
for it to become a home you
would have never built with me?
But become a visitor in a gallery
of art I could never understand.)

Live each day like a sombre white
and watch over your thoughts
as if you had a limit to how much
you could hurt yourself
because there is only so long
the Father could hear and only so many hail Marys that can keep you

sinless as the day you were born.

Plant a tree for every heart you broke
and watch someone else carve their stories
in you.

I love the oceans and seas
but I never learnt how to swim;
I'm standing ankle-deep
in the flood of your eyes.

I've learnt to breathe water
for when you cry,
and your waves
pull me under.