The morning mist kissed the
green pasture, as it spoke of autumn dew.
Dripping a coat of frozen foot-prints,
leaking memories of only you.

I decided the sun was use-less that day. A point-less
picture of misplaced energies. It left me stranded.
abandoned, with frost bitten emotions, a hypothermic
ache.

And I remembered he romanced me blind with
a thorn not a rose. Reciting verses of you’s and I’s.
labeled poetry but not a poem. only virtue(al)
reality. A linear brutality of a love spoken upon deaf ears.

A heart home-less, hope-less.
a melancholy space. a trace
of Venus and spun sugar. He
still evolves. Revolving around the sun.

though “we” no longer have “that” gravitation(al) pull.
He told me I never was that beautiful.

So I engraved a picture of a sand-dollar
against the crease of his forehead. Today
I would find the shell whole. A beautiful score
of an oceans floor. Artistry that would last forever.


Then I realized my imagination got the best of me…
Sadly, so did he.