Autumn sneaks in preceding dormancy Leaves take on new beauty with nothing left in them but a fa… Individually insignificant

There is something to be said of a true friend One who will pull the knife from your back One who will stitch the wounds

Everyday I visit the only writers block I know to hone my words and wit and help them cut deeper into the skin

You asked what I knew about you and I thought up a list of twenty things

I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back

If nature were so flattered by poems written with itself in mind as people are we would be moving mountains

I’ve kept my eyes closed most of these past eighteen years because I find it just as dark

Hope in another form but no fewer letters and I’ve been hoping for these past eight years so I’ll just keep on

I would write a sweet poem and title it with your name if I loved you at all