Storms shaken in shattered glasses along my spine

a fist of a heart it beats and battles on without you

though it is punching my lungs and stealing my breath

a stranger running through veins thin with a rage of longing

earthen paint chips fall shouting into these open hands

in praise of you they color the walls into another planet

another island I can go to when it is steadily raining you

atop umbrellas broken from too much opening and closing

snow white fingers pressing away the blood within them

wrapped around wood until the grain becomes evident

I see your name on clean white pages of poetry in sighs

the book of this need spread on my fingertips and eyes

behind the door where nothing is reflected but much stirs

rustling skirts do pinwheel twirls when his voice is heard

but lying flat on tired backs all spent from loving much

memories there linger still beside this distant touch