Then

Daisies doused in kerosene,

Weak and heavy, Only waiting to be set ablaze.

            Then turned to ash,

            Then scattered with the breeze,

            Then forgotten.

This is a pyre that my tears cannot conquer-

A cleanse of the memories,

Puzzle pieces that never quite fit right.

Mourn the love that never was,

Mourn the midnight kiss that cooled my blood.

Your mother always did complain about the phone bills…

Cut the cord,

Never call me again-

Trust in something other than my voice.

But I am more than that.

         More than flowered ashes

         More than streetlight-lit dashboards at dawn

         More than frayed telephone wires

Then, Now, Here,

I am more than you.