black cards

I no longer hear
from your friends,
all flat
in black and gray.
I've made peace
with their absence,
but not with yours.
maybe one day
we can talk about it.
until then, outlines and stains,
shadows of our potential chats,
clump in the bottom
of my tea cup.
fools suck it up,
but you sucked it up.
maybe hiding was a bad idea.
you believe in heaven,
so that is where
I will find you.

blue light

 that soft blue light

has a way of creeping

      where it shouldn't.

and the click and punch

     of the typewriter

has a way of hypnotizing

when it shouldn't.

it's almost as if 

  you are speaking to me

from the next room,

but you are not here.

      it's almost as if

the blue light knows

whom to summon,

whom to follow 

       when inspiration calls.

uneven spaces, blue 

in the cracks, 

try to ease my hand,

ease my worry, 

  but no softness 

has enough force

to hit the keys,

and I am left with

your whispers,

your shadows

        where they shouldn't

appear.