I stand on tortured twisted rocks
Two and a quarter miles above
The surface of the sea they were

Evening mountains quietly
Encircle the valley,
Hiding in snow.

Pure melt water
Tumbles with

I sit
And I listen
And what I hear is
They are ashamed
They are trapped in what they believe
Is

The waves diminish slowly,
A tide retreating from a brutal flood;
Where once I stood and felt

The old man
fixes clocks
at the back
of a bookshop;

we're a dying
breed, he

Started off ignoring the signs, should have read them right the first time

I guess I was blown

Darling, you made a mess
Your lies worth more than any truth
Behind my back,
You staged an

Being called crazy. Jealous. Boring.
Being home alone with you just ignoring,
Isolated from

Hashtag TBT to the time he wrote that poem
The one about that other woman he’d been textin’ and out

Being the library curator / of my own life
I’ve archived several tomes / of family strife,
The