Without poetry, stories would be told in sepia.

You gotta be crazy to open your windows, invite the demons in.

Coyotes hunt in packs, and so do assholes.

empty and closed, hovering in some frozen netherworld neither sun nor rain could thaw.

Some people never find love at all, count yourself blessed if it ever happens your way

You can’t walk away from someone you love, leave them drowning in your desertion. If love has no more meaning than that, you can keep it. I don’t want it now or ever again. Don’t want to hear the word or wear its scars.

Love is like that. I could crush her beneath the weight of confession.