I know that age matters not

right now, but then it did.

It mattered when we raced against

the wind. I was just a babe in your arms.

You were a man even as a teenager.

You had this way of bringing me love

on a tray, and spoiling me until

I was full on your love. I had it

all, for a brief time. I showed you

my cuts and bruises

and you kissed them. Your lips

on my shoulders within seconds.

My hands unbuckling your belt

in such a frantic youthful way

in an ageless time

between this world and the next.

Let’s remember where we were

and lament the age of us.

It matters that you see past

the girl. We felt invincible

and will never know that freedom

again, that youthful love we held

onto so naurally.


Glass doors

Got a ticket
for a train ride
I missed, as I sped
past the cemetery
and the battery-operated candles.
Did not pay the one-hundred and sixty two dollars
after thirty days
did not call in sick
found the gym shorts
at the bottom of the hamper
made a u-turn
because only he has the gift
of bringing me out
of the depths of my own hell.
He played me a song, rubbed
my neck, reminded me
of who I was, told me
he was sorry
and let the sunshine back in,
this sweet child of mine.

Then lo and behold
the black ice
met my black mood
collided and crashed
when out of nowhere
a salt truck
saved my life
where it guided me
back to the ticket booth
where I waited for you.
You did not show up
of course, you never do,
such is my life without you.
And all
That I sacrifice, give parts
of my soul every day,
to receive letters
from the lost n found
I try to guide
but their walls are blocked
and the more I give
the more they take.
And something has changed today
it’s in the air around me
in the name of my perfume
in the colour of my eyes
as I walk out glass doors
for the last time.