empty puddles

the day is indigo
and rain has found
its home on my skin
you are everything
I am missing
I long for new
continuity
that recognizes me
no umbrella
just a rocking chair
I watch as horses
clear the meadow
no reason for vigilance
alone with my thoughts
and all these empty puddles
dangerous silence
yet
I've changed too much
to let you in
but inside
floor boards ache with age
they disagree with me

eclipse

the black and white of
eclipse
the movies we picture
ourselves in
the empty rooms
echo
and unfold
the gift of silence
turning gold
pieces of daylight
and boredom bared
we are something
more than counted
breath
we must be of use
not just dreams without
root
hungry souls
silent phones
that won't convey
what written words
can say

morning journal

oh, my love
your sweater on the wall hook
is a ghost in the early morning hours
I wanted to wear it
but I left it there like a monument
I wanted to ask you to stay
but my mind was sleepy
my skin is cold without yours
my fear intact because in morning
light its a little harder to see
the faultlines
all I feel for you is still safely
inside of me
for now
the fireplace is still warm
our wine glass half full
interrupted by a ripe midnight
moment where our breathing
was perfect songs
the night 
was ransomed too soon
as rain washed away 
your footsteps at dawn