Mute

I take back the lavender and the twin beds we pushed together, drunk on the pollen

Those saltwater waves and sand dunes?
Say goodbye

Every mile of concrete, each and every city song — mine alone, now!
Hot gravity and thick urban beats, such gifts I do revoke

But the mountains
I’ll let you keep
For you were late
You fell asleep
And they don’t remember you, anyway

Incandescent Day

We were tired
Eager to see whether we could slip off our shoes
Unleash the day in a most irresponsible manner
Letting exhaustion have its way

And, behold!
It was okay!

Morning arrived in its happy manner
Offering another chance to sing and smile
To brave the wind, stare at the sun in wonder
Then find contentment again at day’s end

New Songs

Scouring the shops for retro playthings, been-used books and classic, gently-worn threads

I find whimsy

Somehow the hit songs from even this and last year’s summers seem broken, dusty and worn-through at the knees

I’m left thirsty

Used, non-sensical songs creakily playing broken, dusty, worn words, reminding me 

Of the lies I said to myself to survive at about thirteen

I’ve survived…I believe, and I want this: new songs