Cold Hands

No purpose in speaking to you my short lived love

No purpose in convincing another you are worth loving

Why does love have to be necessary for my happiness?

I feel like a rag doll burning at a stake of dead leaves

So much beauty, it hurts to perceive it alone


Hands emits life’s elixir

Cold hand receiving

Through orbs of eyes

Warm and scintillating


Bloodstream lifting fireflies

Rag dress dripping shreds of life

Sand bag calves dressed in shame

Early morning exploits of the soul

Streaming from the cavernous doorway

Of my bedroom chamber window

Of the fairy lights bidding farewell

Of dawn’s sleepy mutterings

And the shadow of peach blossoms

Dripping with morning tears