Do you imagine there’s a world where you and I are talking still?
Where messages appear
And so we press them to an ear
And to our heart and to our feelings
Like they’re stars reflecting light upon the ceiling
And the things I never got a chance to say to you I finally did reveal?

Do you believe there’ll be a day where you and I will speak again?
Where one of will send
Like a reminder from a friend
The sentiment of, “If you’re crying,
Or you’re happy, or inside you’re slowly dying
I was there for you before and I can promise I’ll be there for you again.”

Do you imagine there’s a world where I can finally say how sorry that I am?
Where every major fault
I hadn’t hidden in a vault
And I could say what I was hiding
And believe it wouldn’t be so damn dividing
And the truth I could’ve given as a stream instead of just another dam?

Do you, I wonder, happen by and read the words I write and always will?
The ones forever tilting
From a soul forever wilting
In the absence I created?
And if so, I hope you know, I’ve always waited
And imagined we would speak again for hopeful was the way you made me feel.



Where did we fall when both we held to rain and rode the droplets to the earth?
When winds, in their assertions
Swept umbrellas from our fingers
‘Til on desert winds of warm desertion
Did we, like the notes from singers
Hope the hurricane was not a death, but just a song of new rebirth?

And did we clutch too longingly like thumbs on reddened eyes that echo tears?
And beg for but a mention
Of a thought of some tomorrow
Where the winds we tried to call redemption
And the light, we needn’t borrow
Like a loan made out of yesterdays we tried to sign away with years?

When did we turn to hours as if pillows neath a head of weighted words?
Where sleep was by attrition
And our waking was in folly
To a day of dread and cold admission
Set upon our hearth as holly
Did we press our lips to feathers as if want could turn us into birds?

Or did we just imagine that a dream of yew and aye could be a sea?
Where clipper ships and galleys
Were the years we tried to capture
Like a peakĀ in this, a world of valleys
Something more than simple rapture
Did we shackle these, our wrists of want, to promises of “Maybe it could be?”


It echoes like the pulse within a heart that’s meant to swoon
And like a swell, a storm in hell
When, slowly, bells and angels fell
As if a cracked and cold bassoon it was
…And always is too soon

As if a song so violent that it cannot help but croon
And what is done are merely crumbs
When all the sums are one or none
And oaken hearts are sadly hewn because
…They couldn’t play the tune

On strings they never meant to play for ears that seem immune
Where, to the songs, we sing along
Where nights are long and hope is gone
And love has leaned into impugn where flaws
…In deserts, seem as dunes

And walking far away from fields we’d threaded like a loom
We, looking back, into the black
We slowly crack from what we lack
And tell ourselves we’re meeting noon’s applause
…With these, our liquid bleeding wounds


It’s easiest to love me for the me I’ve never been
The me I never really was
The me I’ll never be again

It’s easiest to love me for the me you never met
Until the me I really am
Is just a me you can forget

It’s easiest to love me for the me I choose to show
The me I offer all the world
The me that guards the me below

It’s easiest to love me like the lyrics in a song
But then, if that’s the me you love
Then I’m afraid you love me wrong


I let the inches creep along the surface
Where once my hand, beside your own, was soft
And slowly did decisions make their purchase
And callouses were made
When rivers deep I chose to wade
And harder still, they soon became when finally crossed

In time the inches crept and skin was stolen
And turned into this carapace of stone
That hid the streaming tears of eyes now swollen
For all the lonely steps
Where racing hearts had finally crept
Until a statue stood to mark an empty home

And maybe hopeful eyes created yearning
And dreamed a day where you returned to me
And crossed the deserts long and oceans churning
With wishes in your palms
To give as whispers of your alms
So that tomorrow was echoed memory

Where curled into my arms, you chose to slumber
And I, but made of stone, began to weep
For though my skin had long been turned to umber
And stoic now, my face
It softened still in your embrace
For there within, a heart remained for you to keep


Let me be a feather
Maybe two
Or even three
And dance with lonely butterflies
…Above a rolling sea
The way you never danced with me

Let me be a wing
If I cannot
Be given two
And be the final autumn leaf
…That never fell or flew
Because I painted it for you

Let be the summer
Or the wind
Or just the rain
And sing along with all the storms
…And all the weathervanes
And all the storms that never came

Let me be your light
Or else a genie
Or a wish
And fill your heart with all things
…I know you deeply miss
The way I wish that, long ago, I told you this


I saw your face within the clouds
Or maybe I was looking at the sun
I heard you in the river running, whispering aloud
A song of never been and yet to come

I saw you in a quiet glow
Or maybe I was looking at a star
I saw you in the meadows like a flower in the snow
A tale of beauty blooming from a scar

I felt you in the summer mist
Or maybe I was swimming through the clouds
I felt you like redemption from the lips I never kissed
A vision of your eyes beneath a shroud

I saw you in a photograph
Or maybe I’m just hoping that I will
I felt you like a smile and I heard you like a laugh
A story of the way you make me feel