Lassen

cold and clear cut 
liquid eyes
expectation with the rise
of each branch on the wind

i'm a half breathing bird 
with no memory of joy
i'm the thrill on the ledge
on the edge of the void
these fault lines jagged 
through my bones
these stars don't flicker
when you're not home
so quick to fall apart.

and each careful step 
under quiet pines
i listen for you, i will find
your voice, no words
your hand in mine