Stricken by the pretty lightning—
The ache of memories aligning.
It is there you will see me again,
Alone, alone as I ever have been…
The wind will gather our tears
As the sun in our eyes disappears.

A stolen thought—autumn by day,
Haunted by words you never knew how to say.
This crooked embrace is all I have known—
And I cannot define which mind is my own.
In the smell of...