Painting that I did when I couldn't sleep and I did a small poem too...

Like soft glass drips my eyes slid the length of her, extensions of reflections refracted around references of muted screams and dreams deferred.

It was in those moments I loved her the most.

Wrapped in her wraith's cloth I swam and sang silent songs upon memories, memoirs, told and gone. Poems pronounced, piloting parables applausing, then pausing- waiting...


waiting for her to speak.