the spill

I see that you're tired now
You seem to sigh with every step and I
Can sense your defeat and empty loss
You left me a note the other day but
We know it means zero when words
Always come easy for the writer just
More letters stitched together in the most
Perfect of ways

august

the night falls and i know you are waiting
in the corners you lurk, slightly leaning forward
listening ever so carefully as my obvious signs of weakness settle in,
finding their daily comforts-
my heavy shoulders and that tattered heart that burns

this wool cost is itchy and comforting for it's warmth and familarity
i'm aware of your presence and invite you in...
together we sit and cry
so close to each other, yet still without comfort

we sit and we drain.