and the
ascent to
your door,
inhaling the
shameless
dusk that heralds
you, a blade
unwavering
wrapping
itself around
two pieces
carefully
held, hard
charcoal and
powder soft
chalk, your
words
outlined by
panic
creeping along the
outskirts,
the solid red then
tapping on
glass, quiet
steps in the
dark sliding
back to
warmth, contrast
tied but
barely, fused
© 1.23.2017 heather brager
