Writing

There is a swirl of color that accompanies all things. 

Every twist and turn, every fall and failure. All words spoken and sung, every smile or laugh. 

I envy those who’ve never known Loneliness.
She is not just empty space—she’s a presence,
cold fingers brushing the back of your neck
when no one’s watching.

On that night, I stole the stars of the galaxy. Billions of them, each one unique, and put them into her eyes.

you should be an image in stained-glass windows 

the same ones you trace with your eyes every sunday 

while hymns echo in your ears, words 

you've known so long you forget the meaning. 

it’s 2am and i’m still lying awake 

with thoughts in one hand and feelings in the other. 

how can i go to sleep with a head full of stars 

and my face running away 

up into the sky 

The little boy

his little red raincoat

I remember my little purple raincoat

it used to feel so big.

His grandma

her black raincoat

trowel in hand

I remember my grandma teaching me gardens