Rain. I didn’t know I missed it so much.

The wind is still cold but not enough to turn it into snow. Window open, letting the chill in, I listen. Spring sings in every single drop of water. Life is pulsing through the air.

At my desk, I sit, and ask how you’ve been doing. Your answer reaches for my heart, feather-soft presence wrapped around my soul.

My living space has been filled with mementos sent from you with love. Reminders of my path to you. Yours to me. My notebooks hold wisdom of the ages, knowledge of my self tapped into when I close my eyes, slow my breath and softly sing back to you.

The moment of bliss and quiet pass. I turn back to the noise of the world, peacefully looking forward to our next meeting.

I close my window and go back to work.


at the corner of two busy streets
I wish you were here

each vehicle
reminds me of the one
you were driving
when you left me
I watch them pass
praying they’ll reach safety
destinations you’ll never see

at the corner of two busy streets
I wish you were here

the flowers I lay
on the ground
of you, my only memory
you returned to the land
that witnessed your birth
your ashes nourishing
a soil I won’t walk on

the corner of two busy streets
the wind turned cold
you won’t be here again
’cause on the corner of two busy streets
one played too bold

in memory of the crosses marking the roads I traveled


reading his words
I feel his pain
feel hers
dual flames
trapped in their dance
both blind
to what lies beyond

I read his words
and cannot ease
the tension in my body
jaw set tight
my flame
we were the same
suffocating each other’s light
burning too bright
our end
our beginning
blurred limbs coloured in fire

I read his words
and look away
aching for them both
I turn to the understanding
and freedom
we found in our hearts
praying they will find it too
knowing they will find it too
their path away from ours

oh my love
how we have grown


how are you doing ?
sweet talk
my heart cringes
I take the phone off my ear
and delete your message

what is there to say
between us
that haven’t been said before ?

your voice
only sweeps
the surface of us

the air is howling
through the cracks
of your heart
yet disrepaired

I close my eyes
and breathe

I won’t be waiting for you


words strung together
meaning felt but unseen
silent sounds without a partition
secrets found, failed mission
unintentional enigma
left wide open
on the right side of the table

memoirs written
short pieces of mundanity
between bursts of fragility
cryptic messages
fresh from the wound
bleeding wide open
on the right side of the table

Other side

graffitis on the wall
barely visible
on the other side of the street
steaming mug in hands
warm inside
attention held by pieces of dust

stark white snow against black concrete
on the other side of the window
ambiant contrast
eyes adjusting
to the muted lights of the coffee shop

people sharing the sidewalks
hands buried in their pockets
on the other side of the world
I turn my head back
to the pages of the book in my lap
and take another sip