Clouds hover over April afternoons.
Their shadows hang heavy
like curses from old friends.
I long for raindrops on window sills
dripping into forgotten crevices
caressing my aging soul.
My past hovers over April afternoons.
Naked, gaping holes staring.
Empty wanderings, meaningless choices.
Aimless scribbles over coffee tables at dusk.
The heavy breath of darkness
surrounds my withering longings.
Evenings creep in, like age.
Empty promises of rain,
like wishes, like fleeting loves
haunt our days, nights, seasons
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