my words are of poor value,
i can't string a sentence together.
every moment ends before
i understand my feelings,
before i remember, a new one begins.
i can't recall what i missed
or what's left of me.
i'm in a room,
(and the room) is a cold piece of me.

but if i'm lucky that day
and if i can remember the way you gazed at me,
every sound pours itself out on paper -including the ones i couldn't tell you.
a few drying drops
of my mistakes
on my hand.
the clouds unfold,
your enlivening scent may visit my window at any moment -before the other moment arrives
my nightmares can end.
i can allow myself to rest
in the hope of trying again
and of anything seems impossible:
there now exists a tomorrow.
© sandy