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. 

or you belong in a portrait

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

looking for the moon?

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