"Rainy day bright eyes

Smiling bleakly at my empty coffee cup

Living for love

Just like me

Soul mates; surrender softens his hands upon the steering wheel

And there's a broken heart on his palm

Magic-marker drawn

Crudely perfect because it was my idea

'Baby', he says,

'Angel', he sings,

'Shandi', he whispers, though I know it isn't


Pentagram dreams


Celtic longing linger


From entry-hall paint fights and

Scabbed wrists full of

Razor stars

That sparked the photograph in my journal

Somehow sleep still

Doesn't come easy, even when it


'Beauty was never my strong point'."

8/20/2005 10:16pm