Faint

It’s foggier, it’s all foggier –
whole lives turn over when the trees blur red;
my lips go numb in the dark, bruised blue
by your fingertips
– the mist lingers after downpour.

I wrap up in the cold, covered from the howling
wind and wearing your whispers
around my shaking shoulders.

The roses on my porch smell heavy with leftover
rain slipping off the edges of their petals;
wisps of leftover clouds shift from mute
grey to violent, blinding white.

My contributions:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/71f51f/sweet_prairie_park/dnacywz/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/71eud3/still_life/dnactya/