the invitation

the things that make us so heartbroken
are never about what the letters say
we care more, we are devoted
to what is not written on the page

and to ourselves is a promise of creation
of a barrier before affection steps to enter
gather all the oil, coil, and feed off frustration
shatterproof hearts, for the robots in the future

danse macabre

what is there to know more?
let the music be,
let the cantor sing and stare down.
feel the room under your feet,
just move.
can you taste it, the subtle savor of melancholy?
the grief,
and rapture that seep with each step
while we dance this delicate dance

slow down.
we're in no hurry to end,
are we?

absence

one forgotten wish you have run upon
to give me an echo to listen to in my ears

my dear,
how have you been gone