for the city.

back to the trolley
the sound of alive
the scratching of buses
combustless and lithe
a home worth having
a place to thrive
maybe a family
this city
is mine.

handing off the wishes.

things elapse and fall on tides
takes a lisp to explain those eyes
a long winded cruise
a short goodbye
a second for having
a moment to cry
to hands full of holding
the resonating, this time
smelling of rhododendrons
and lilies
no needing to grieve
just futures and forevers and reasons to be.

mid-wested.

he supposed he could live without a heart
if only for a day
if only for a day
to pick up with hands and hold
a precious gift
a reason still left
to crawl
to exist.