Insipid Storm

How the heat
Awakens us 
Unfairly ’round midnight
Demanding

Be more 
Want more
Until we can take it no more
Covers off
Masks off

Enshroudments be gone
Our skin will breathe 
At 3am
We’ll rise by choice

You Remain

Then you are ruin
A puddle stepped in by mistake
And not out of Vivre!

You are confetti 
The nuisance forgotten 
And not the heralded 

You are the dark
Shuttered away alone
Not the blessed cool of eve’

Hand On Hip

Think not about
The breeze blowing through
The center of you
Howling away a hollow
A something-specific shaped hole
Where resides your soul

Decide you’ve all you need
You are enough 
Standing there tough
Your own hand on your hip
Eyes surveying what you’ll prefer or let pass
How full your glass