an ornament for the heart.

i write myself more than i write anyone else...






it's these lines who curl around your face like smoke. your form is no longer crisp, no longer clear... where you end and where the space around you begins just floats in the ether around your shoulders; embraced like the ghosts that tug on our footsteps, begging our memories to haunt us as they do. my friend, i'm saving my breaths to tease the smile from your floating visage. this is the memory i save of you: while i step on the earth, you are lost at sea, living a hundred years like a hawksbill beneath a jeweled shell.

i hope you return to the shore from where you crawled out to the sea.