Sheila

More than any laughter, love brings me to my knees, like broken water, inflated or in despair, I can cry when I please, absent what I care, it’s not a slaughter, to that other disease, a used cartridge shell daughter, the manner of her fare, she knows why I’m grieving, but no time to share, she stands by the river, swears she'll never release, the name of those pictures, there’s a time to dare, in yellow nights of feasting, ask what is really out there, is this how I feel ?