Leaving whispers of love
on your pillow,
as you slept.
And I wept, for the fears
of my scars,
as they ooze their pitiful woes.

Lots of layers still cover,
a face not
completely discarded,
moving closer and closer
to epiphany.
Will you ever be free of me?

Desert escape

How nice it would be to run. Far and fast, away. In lush green fields or desert mountains. To breath in the freshest air. Taste rain on your tongue. The smells of moist Earth, of tall grass, of creosote bush, so rustic, like fuel, but fresher. No one is around except the rapping footsteps of animals, birds humming, sweet music. The quiet is serene and forgiving. No noisy mouths to question or judge, to ask and ask again. You're so tired. You could rest now, on the soft green, under the palo verde, awaiting, for nothing.