Your lips touch mine
but yours are steel.
Lips tremble, fears,
wet with damp tears.
How many years
has it been this way?

We shared, we missed . . .
both hearts seems cold.
Love’s a token
that seems broken,
it’s unspoken.
How’d we get by?

Uncomforted,
my wipers swish,
the windshield’s blurred.
Footfalls are heard,
but not a word
that says you’re leaving.

I’m not mad . . . sad
that our love died—
it was diseased.
I made with ‘ease’
baked it . . . in degrees;
our cake over-baked.

Dear heart, it fell,
love died alive
with faint footfalls,
whispered in halls.
Love never calls
for burnt offerings.