Writing

You asked me to stay 
As you gazed into the future 
Longing once more

Turning the handle

Feels like mornings up too early

Stepping into the steam and heat

Warmth against the cold chilly mornings

Frost on the ground

Feels too early for colored leaves

Because they mean change

"When did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt?"

You spoke of mistakes, things to fix, things to grow from,

you choose the coldest seat in the class

next to the tall pretty girl

with a gleaming smile and long, straight flowing hair.

taking one good look at her you already know her story.

Space has no voice,
no light.
The cosmos:
a cathedral
with no choir.

But I hear the galaxies

sing,

a medley of choruses
all at the same time,
with you by
my side.

You shatter

the world was gray and cold when i rolled out of bed,

the first frost of the season just barely

kissing the ground. i tied the morning 

into shoelace knots and hugged forgiveness to my chest.