2 Sides

First kiss framed in golden

strands of youth

as we drifted

gently over the horizon,

one spring night. 

First love fluttering

butterflies

as we touched.

Unparalleled sensation

in each twilight

with you.

Where to

now that we are here,

in the same place each year?

Filled with our fears. 

Filled with our tears. 

What should we do? 

Bakers Dozen

Bake me a dozen buns

and throw in the extra

for a price so steep,

the broken oven

takes a flying leap. 

Chase me toward webs

spun from pity-rubbed salt.

Cut me free with a knife

poisoned by fault.

And guilt, thick.

Pervasive. Sick.

A weight. A cloak.

Hope bespoke,

but I can’t catch smoke.