Here you walk, right through my open door.
Though I'm not one to judge, for it was open just for you in the first place.

My music drifts solemnly through crevices and drifts down the neighborhood.

Singing their way to you.




I will tell you that I twist too easily. Crumple into a fist of harsh words

With the click of a tongue

My ego is quite flimsy.




Someone once told me

That the best poetry is written from the heart.

That every flaw and failure that teaches you loops around and laces through your fingers waiting for the end to come.

The knot to be tied.

Until then...