A window holds its breathas the day thins to a pale wash.Frost gathers at the corners,soft as dust.Someone walks past,coat brushing the airand sending in a brief drift of coldthat sharpens a thoughtthe way cold sometimes does—clean, immediate,quietly sure...

As the evening stretches beyond skyscrapers  sunset cracks windows and voices,  midnight lies as a would-be lover  counting her footsteps across Brooklyn Bridge  to an anonymous apartment, where she imagines  waking to her lipstick on his coffee cup     Washing machine skies spin skeins of colour  red always bleeds into the blue and JFK...

You just weren't it wasn't your fault because someone refused to hold and pour into you, no longer cared to show how truly pleasant you can be and you are~ But you came in with your course callused hands as if to...

From living,  to memory,  to dust,  to forgotten.    My beloved, so many pictures, so pretty your grave, so sadly forgotten.    From heat of blushes, to the cold of death, to existing in memory only, to forgotten dust in the wind.