I can never think of titles.

my eyes

are burning past my skin�"

it is not quiet here.

 

at the end of my paper-glass memories,

there is you and the sand in your hair,

the way i can’t seem

to eat anything without salt.

 

i am lying on my back

and the sun makes salt

stains across my face because i can’t

look at it without

crying and why,

why are you always there in my mind,

even when i do not want you,

even when i do not love you?

 

i think

i need to get more sleep,

drink milk for breakfast only on

sundays,

wipe the tear-stains

from my windshield.

Reviews

[Paul B. Spence]

An interesting approach.

It is almost stream-of-consciousness.

Poignant.

As a title, how about 'Paper-glass Memories'

[Shellie]

I really like this, its different and composed wonderfully.