roselip petals and
heart-sunk fields
calling out for love
day is distraction,
clarity dissipates.

it is so regrettable
to leave a girl behind,
and yet,
sunday leads me back
into knowing arms
my hands fail me;
want to feel yours-
so tender-

and poetry is pain's
unending soul chant.
i will crumple and fall
before i ever soar,
this is the prophecy
of the poet, hurt me.