Paper Sidewalks

Can't see Tuesday
from here.
Broken window silhouettes.
Losing time,
finding reasons
to find problems.
Nothing is good enough
but everything
sounds great.
Untied laces,
tripped up
on paper sidewalks.
Outlines of horizons
traced across my walls
tell the story
better than you do.

City Orcahrds

The open window
invited the breeze
into my room.
It scattered my papers
with its invisible caress,
and now I reflect
as the same breeze
blows in these
city orchards
through which I walk,
hands in pockets.
Longing.
Your arms aren't
wrapped around me now.
The leaves sway
above me.
I bleed.
I breathe deeply.