Loss of Words

Fold your arms like this

Bury me like this

I want to be the memory

That fails you

The memory you can barely

Find on the loneliest of nights

The one that fades to grey

Moments before my face

Becomes clear

So forget me

It will be easier that way

Sunday Morning

When we sleep

we hold our feet

find security

in each others

ten touching toes

sleep softly against the sunrise

listen to the silence

of yellow street lights

blinking in perfect

unison

like the heart beat of

our sad sad city