Cherry lips, peeled oranges,

Cigars crushed under high heels.

Bonfire nights in the moonlight,

Long drives in times sealed;

Notes scribbled on the margins of history books.

Bronte and a dash of nostalgia,

My dead sister's coffee-stained cardigan, 

hanging by the hook. Rust and salt

memories, sunbathing on the beach.

A dry leaf pressed between moth-eaten diaries.

Momma, singing a summer lullaby; her

favorite maroon lipstick, the orange everglow.

Red mufflers, texts from Atlas, poppies 

and daisies on the bylines. A red death, black moons,

Smoke rings on the balcony and bronze tears.

Stale tea and talks of times never known.

Paint the sunset in your eyes;

Our bloodstained garden blooms upon

A suicide note and a dead star.

– blue bones were a poetry of drunken 

promises when they were still alive.