Untitled

If I could just
rest my face
on yesterday

the cool press
of memories

would soothe

the pain

Untitled

We crest the morning
a runaway steed
foam flecked
withers heaving
the thudding
hooves
kicking sods behind us

Your hands
wound in my hair
reining me in

If I could hold back

I would

but the edge of the earth
beckons
a jagged finger nail
jutting into the sky's
blushed cheeks.

Mold to my spine
fingers aligning
with vertebra

I arch back
knowing
you will bend
and curve

to keep me