Sometimes I think I’m free,
I think I’ve left the lands in grief begotten;
And then I just glance back,
To see my wings the colour of your smile


There’s Christmas

There’s Christmas tapping on my door,
I’m on the floor, I’m on the floor;
I vaguely hear people pace;
I search for trace, I search for trace,
I’m looking for your footprints, dear;
They feel so near, they feel so near,
The footprints that my sentience cleft
The day you left, the day you left.


It snows. The misty calm engulfs the colors slain.

It snows the petals of the age we’re far apart.

I hope

we’ll never be so close again.

You’re still

too very deep inside my heart.