No Strings Attached

it is fairly easy
to lose an old shoe
while you force yourself
to run on unfamiliar tracks

& if the pace you chose
leaves you limping,
you are left with
longing for your old, abandoned shoe
and a wet, muddy sock.

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Into The Gray

she shivers in the rain —
watches fragments of a promise
turn to asphalt tears
& swirl away to mingle with secrets
far beyond her grasp

she shivers in the rain —
while stoic words of an outcast
drip from her lips &
her tongue savors the sharp edges
of those foreign sounds
that taste like braille

time trips over itself
as she traces
the seams of quilted past
soon to be ripped once more
& all the while
she shivers in the rain.