Obsolete

      I find myself crying constantly ever since you left   Maybe it’s the jealousy now that you are free and I am still trapped

Seven Colored Ash

        It has happened once a year every twelve years   Stoic years that have defined the meaning of my anguish   I had tried to talk to you   Stretch through the prickled dots that cloud my sky just to try to spread into yours   but my movements they were…