• Vol. 08
  • Chapter 10


A wound, deep, scarred
not mended, fever, aches,
blurry eyed, my mind spools
sepia images, a laceration of pain
social distanced from my love
a longing to hug and kiss
her soft lips, cuddle her.

A silence, glancing at her photo
through the glass, yearning.
Solitude, would I die alone?
open to the purple skies as
bright stars twinkle mocking my hurt.

The ancient dust covers me
in a serape of memories
of our life together, halcyon days
sunshine, love, teen- glow
of childhood love and passion
under the magical moon
and time waits like sand.