Coffee grows cold,
stirred
by the second hand
of my watch,
as mind races
to escape the capture
of an ink doodled labyrinth.
Eyes flutter,
within an emotional free fall
of reflective thought,
and scribbled answers
trip desire
to stumble
through denial's threshold,
And still,
snowflakes fall, marking
the seconds lost
in my silence;
the absence,
of whispered
'I love yous'...










18 old applause
