Simple eludes me.

My thoroughness of approach
Precludes fresh answers.

It’s three hundred yards
From this spot to your window.

But I am away!

I do not expect
insights or happy endings.

So why do I cry?

Sunlight on cropped hair.

A mother touch from winter
warming me, briefly.

Eating on my own.

The silent chairs rebuke me
with old arguments.

Rejection Letter.

The clear path I imagined
walked by another.

Don't let the dragon
Sink fangs into everything.

Be still my anger!