A March Return to Winter

Nothing ever falls
beautifully
like they say it
will.

Limp-wristed lilies
leapt from my crooked
fingers
and
.th.lepped.
uselessly
on a dirt
floor.

I am in
a place
where
quiet things
never happen;
like heel-crushed
lily fragrance rising
to six-year old
nostrils with
swirl soft
inhales;
like hands
warmed by
tea
in old,
worn out
cups;
like eye laughter
or toes curling
in shoes;
like betrayal;
like finding God
or losing him.

Flourish-stroked
graffiti walls
match the tufts
of my hair
and no one
notices
my guilt.

I loved all things
equally
until I chose one
and then I loved
her
less
for the
choosing.

Nothing ever falls
_____bea.
________u
______ti
_______ful
_________ly
like they say
it
should.

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