i listen to the echo
of dreams in my mind.
glimmering but fading hopes
linger bound invisibly
to the wisps of sheer misery
that follow me unbidden.

the power, the passion
corrupted into hurt
burns from the inside
with the strength of my isolation.

memories of joy
fading like the hickies
of last weekend
into a mottled mess
of hope and despair.

 [kristin buxton]  [email]  [poetry]