last night
the howling
winds of November
laid down
its white carpet
after
he escaped
the city,
and me,
on the hunt
for that rare thing
sleep
perchance to dream
to extract
the madness
from his
mind
but I
just remember
concrete, vaguely
and
i am
lost
underneath
a blanket
of forgotten
time
those things
he
can not
protect me from
will not
may not
and
i should
know
by now
that if i lean
on him
i’ll
fall