Broken glass

I wake up
and all I hear
is breaking glass.

I am
down, deep in
South, but
the shattering brings me
back to life.

it seems
the silence of the
barren lands isn’t
holy enough

but don’t be afraid,
I’ll pick up
my sinful pieces, then
help you
gather yours.

Amaretto sour

I give in
my ears are pink,
into thin air
my heart does sink.

from your cranberry lips
a cherry juice
drips down
slowly, like amaretto
waiting to drown

in the red
of my skin
in the eleventh hour
of my sins.