In the morning animals will come
And simplify my sleep
Until then I'm trapped in my pillow
I guess

I wish I could tell you,
That wishes were the shape of things
But reality is sharp at the corners

An Onion's Reflection

If you peel all my layers back
I will cry

When
Flittering, skittering
Tentative, Hesitant
A single shoot stretching
Through so much old snow
A remembrance of things
At once too green to be of this place
And yet too vulnerable for elsewhere

Breaking
Ice beneath summer's slow touch
I feel the irregularities of each pulse
And find your echo
Still haunting these fragile vessels
Trembling
Unafraid of spiderwebs
Lest fear should snatch my balance
And I miss you
Before you've even gone.

Something stirs
Far below these burns

Words slip
Like a roof after rain
And I,  a moment between
Footing and falling
Hang
In the plausible deniability
Of your smile.

As easy as breathing
Or
Tough as a soul's dead roots
I hang
On the branches between
Saying nothings
And
Not saying anything
Just to see your voice
Or live upon silence

I wonder where the green shoots lie?