Limns of Liaisons: 

 
There is no pursuit for my heart or 
my time and I am a stone of lack. 
An unmovable wish for your love 
nestles in the bones of my spirit. 
But, you are blind to me and I am 
blind to the tomb of June’s 
unusual language of grief. 
Oh, how can I negotiate with the 
leaving of daylilies when there 
isn’t any moonlight in your eyes? 
And does any of this even matter 
to me? Or you? Or is this just the 
undeniable us that never was?

©️Winter Dawn Burns