it tastes
like the longing in my throat,
the leftover reality
never really sinking in
of just
we can truly be

singing in the night.
a few hours later
watching her climb into the sky,
disappear from sight
the ground
feels arbitrary
beneath my feet;

no connection here,
my heart
cradled in her small hands
flies northward
and leaves me far behind.

9 Dec. ’09 – Chado


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This blog is the collection of my poetry and prose, in chronological order from most recent to oldest.

Constructive critique is actively encouraged!

I am usually singing words as well as writing them, and make lots of other art. You can find me & my other art at any of the below links. x

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All content on this blog © Rebecca Tilley, 2003-present

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