from the archives

I'm referring to my notebook...thoughts go in, and they rarely see the light of day after that.

I wondered all the way home

It was feather-light and soft
the way we touched, and
all the diamonds I saved
spilled through my fingers,
useless, to the ground.
We pulsed, the white-capped
waves
beating on shore
rhythmic in a moment's movement
and I left.
Drove home through darkness
shiny wet streets, artificial glare
of promise.
I contemplated the mineshaft
where I once abandoned
my existence
and I walked
through sunlit woods
boots crunching on earth,
holding my treasure in my soul.