Gently, let us steep our love
In the silence deep, as thus,
Branches arching high above
Twine their shadows over us.

I wasted my youth on a life without truth, I’m
just as fake as my promises
A slight tinge of blue in mind that’s old news, I
used to be such an optimist
…
I picture my stained glass seat as you file down
And pay dues to my pinewood house
I can see that the pain won’t leave if I do right now
It’s passed around

the rippling shallow water
the white ash trees shedding their leaves

my blood rushing
like the shadow
cast by a cloud of starlings