Quiana

Your kisses leave me, shivering on the train, tongues beset by family, your walled off news, runs across my face, more Gospel than Blues, I know I believe, but a troubling grain, burrows deep inside, who turns the screw, at these house gates, when looking for truth, a swollen handkerchief, a six pack crate, empties stars on the sea, sometimes think cruel, how life can be, but before darkness looms, I regain my dreams.