head pinched inched slightly towards
sliced clean,
knives through limes I smell on my fingers
mixed with the cigarettes and angel
sometime I feel like I am falling
torn leaves and autumn like
I always loved the icicle trees
they happen once or twice a year, you know
crystalized ice dreams sparkling in the moon
I wonder sometimes if I am enough
who is enough
when it’s time to call it the end


I try too hard to see the metaphors
climbing up the back of my neck with each impending kiss
what is busy,
and what is work
and why is there never enough time

this love, undone,
knotted shoelace strings
soiled by the sun
by the busy feet
I’m ungraceful, see
I barely know how to show my love
my hope
though small kisses
deep
breath held in
just breathe,
you’ll see