missing note

well played, maestro

the shrilling echoes
of your absence
reverberate

through the never-ending corridors of restless silence

and pierce
their frozen war
straight into my peace

even when i'm pleased

you win

portrait

the eyes i give the color

belly butterflies ought to have

all the rest

would be just speculation

free

in the greys of winter
through the clouds of stone
a mass of winged
in common sense
heads south
only one chap
takes a mid-air turn
makes a dive or two
and planes the other way

j u s t
be
cause

blind date

when doors slide shut
find me

through dimming light
sight me

though scissored nerves
sense me

while shutting down
scan me


and see

target

no matter
how close the shot

i miss you