I stood quite still I may have even held my breath And for the span of that held in gulp of air I let it go I let go I was in a war zone I was the warrior

Why sift through pages; the rest is yet to be written. Ripe regretting being by yesterday smitten neither ecstasy nor woe directs next chapter from the previous, lies a lesson to capture. Pain hurts awhile, let the sorrow not

I skipped along the sidewalk, my sandals clacking along the cement. I run through the sprinklers, allowing the water to destroy my hair. The sound of laughter sings as well as the ice cream truck. I dig into my

I could see the battle raging inside you, your face yellow and drained. They brought the good stuff—morphine. It was a one-way flight, a few months of confused guests, no turning back, inside out day after day, slurping red

We sit, saying nothing, for the steel tube holds our words, arguments, shattered beliefs, and deferred dreams. It cradles my resentment, deftly conceals your ambition to leave, an entity apart; this concrete, chemical city disappeared from memory. Our faces

Gift shop visor slumps in solitude on a dresser drawer. A booze fueled purchase picked from the rack with irony attached to the tag. Remnant, neon-blue light stored from all energy draining Vegas casinos still lingers on this dust-laden