the lost things
the vanquished "would-be's"
they are
(whether i wish them to be or not)
the closets of old surreal- hopes for...
wonders
(try to close your eyes, my love)
I AM there
the cold vibrance of night
warmed by the beating heart-
and the long comfortable gaze.
It tells me i am home
even when i am lost
i reach out and touch the lines upon your face
and wonder
wonder
wonder