11:09pm on a Monday night

regret me not
let not your thoughts
twist into knots
of unrequited idols wrought

all that glitters is not gold
unloose your hold on dreaming cold
enfold in revelry of bold
and do not do what you are told

Match

My candle burns low
melts into a fragrance
soft glow flickers
silence burns low
rich and smooth.
Send me your light
bright and warm
around me
I want to feel you
with my senses
over flow
over joy
over whelm me.

200 years and still
you're beautiful
hands clasped
eyes shut
silent prayer
you speak to God.
Remember me.

Time

Old cross country medals hang on nails, dotting the wall above my self. A small statue of a golden man: Best Picture Comedy, 2006-2007. A relic of high school. My senior year passed so long ago but I remember my thoughts. Four years turned like rising bread. I'm barely old enough to drive, it seems, and yet my license has changed shape and photo.

Time is slick. The prints of my fingertips reveal my identity but refuse to grip the surface. They leave marks, smears to be washed--cleaned away--to be forgotten. Like breath on a mirror.

Time is slick but I am young. I'll hold the mirror to the sun.