maybe it’s strange how life
worked out this way like
how i can’t deny your face
burned into my brain
with razor sharp precision
or how most starry nights
lying atop my tiled roof
wrapped tight in anonymity
i watch each exhale trail
upwards as warm vapor
only to get lost in cool air
as the next fall breeze
blows past my best laid plans
and how most days now
it’s a fight to keep these eyes
focused on the task at hand
without seeing your face
burned into this brain
white hot like a brand
across the pages
of my memory.
- 1Share
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