a thousand words could not describe
the fleeting thoughts of order in me
shining like filters of murky light
through my chaos, over which i reign
peering across my cluttered floor
i suspiciously spy a small scrap
upon which is drawn a small sun
but you were not the sunshine, no
you were an omen to the life
i know now i covet, cheaply,
a life that begins and ends with me
a life thousands cannot grasp
and this is okay, to hurt,
this is okay to lie dormant
and i admit, i couldn't agree
with such a life unless it were mine
30 November, 1998.