Finding romance in things unexpected.
squeaky bed frames
sticky letters on keyboards
a piano not grand or in tune
suspend my
heavy heart.
Above clouds that whistle when leaves fall
to the ground
crackling crimson hues
against brown grass
bringing me
back to
life
and shaking me
into
death.
Reassurance:
nothing gold will
stay.

A MIDDLE

Lacey sweetheart necklines
buttons
opaque colors
against pale
skin.
Ribbons tied around waists too
thin
[for my Doctor's liking.]
Stepping on scales
holding air in
my lungs
hoping for
minimality.
Thinking of how pretty
our faces would be
mashed together
in smiles.
I am the air.
Stepping off scales
retracing my steps
painting
mirrors and
looking into
glass.

AN END

Tongue tied and uplifted
through the seams of our smiles
cracking knuckles
walnuts
nightmares
things unreal.
Making kindling out of
stray hairs
and silver rings
and fake
pearls.
We
are what we
make of
life.
We are nothing
but a dream
within
a dream
and
this is not

reality.