When love goes,

cigarettes and coffee

walk me down the aisle.

Lately, I've been

stammering in bars:

it's a crime.

When love fades,

there's a vacant light

in the hollow cemetery groves.

No peace inside, so

lately, I've tried

finding you inside crimes.

Love is hidden,

soft and blind,

hard to find,

peace of mind.

When love goes,

I walk the road

into a tunnel of snow,

then I look at the lake.

I walk across and say goodnight.

From here, you can almost see the sea.

subscribe to site or just to poetry