Yearning

In my secret heart, I wish
for incandescence unrestrained.

Ballad of Dead Leaves

My sleep is fevered and intense.
I awake to the sound of my own voice,
and I fear I must have been calling out your name.
I dress in the dark and leave the house in silence.

The walk is cold and lonely.
The leaves have all blown away,
leaving behind little indentations,
like cloven hoofprints in the earth.

I draw myself in, against the wind,
against the cold, against the deepening night.

Regret

I wish I remembered
what it was like
to love
instead of possess.

Ambivalence

is like
emotional
indigestion.

Life

is a dream,
to be lost
in the despair
of waking.

Parade

My life,
as ever,
is a parade
in the rain.

Infinity

written for, and edited by, Anthony Weir

Our lives,
by all accounts,
are just teardrops
in unending seas.