old shadows
that hover over the rocks and stones
in front of him
lead him with the wicked echos of regret
that his life had only become
his plan b.
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Tag: Soul
van Gogh
he freed his fingers from my hand
to paint his own van Gogh
on the side of another square
he felt was a better fit.
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wasted
the pile of faded out t-shirts
that sit silent in the corner of an empty room
still have the scented memories
of his wasted kisses, lost loves,
and the absent knowing
of how to feel something for someone.
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winds
the hidden winds blew
and what was once written,
is now erased.
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basement
in the basement of his soul,
concealed scars reached up to
turn off the light to his heart.
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Unfinished Souls 