Boots
She called me boots.
I had forgotten.
She left me cute notes.
I had forgotten.
After two years
And much forgetting
Her absence still hurts.
But now,
After finding a note calling me boots,
I am scared,
Scared how much it would hurt
If I never forgot anything
Fall
One day last week
I left my house
To find God on my lawn.
The red and orange tongues of flame
Leapt, danced and flew,
And the tree was not consumed.
Today only ashes are left,
Strewn around the base.
The withered dark twigs, though, remain
Reaching up as if to praise him
For their moment of splendor.
Timbuktu
Sleep?
Me,
Bed.
Eyes,
Ceiling.
Mind,
Her.
Sleep,
Timbuktu
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