Your eyes by the window

Your eyes like window light through glass your skin; either blushed or heated or darkened by the sun your smile, says it all by staying bitter or hopeful your hands, rule me like they know where to guide your torso; to rest on for music to play on

Waste of an eyesight

Can’t look at anyone else in the eyes. It’s too glazed, clear, and open. Don’t want to look into them when there’s nothing else they have to show. It’s such a waste of an eyesight. Can’t look at anyone else’s, but yours. Glassy; entwined in something Distant but so near The way it changes in

Burning wood

Quiet nights And the midnight stray dogs that bark The scent of burning wood Clay pots and runny rice On a stove made of fine earth I’m wearing my favorite cotton dress And peeking out the open window railings While the cool breeze touches my face Unlocking my heart There’s the lingering scent from grandma’s

The empty feeling on a late morning

Don’t torture me with pleasant morning air seeping through my bedroom window I’m lying here under covers crying about my hometown, family, old friends, people, everyone, and everything that I miss 2009/06