Like a lost tooth I tried to leave my
Thoughts of you under my pillow
Knowing that far less precious things
Have been bought with the wishes
And hopes of childhood. Wrapped in
The stitches of its cloth, your hair
Weaves in and out of my life
Like a pattern I’ll never comprehend
Interlacing my imagination with
Vague representations of how I want
It to be. And as the morning comes
I find my pillow still laden with your
Voice and the scent of ecstasy, void
Of change and dismissed by
A childish creation.
Moonlit Poetry 