Silly man
throwing stones instead of passes
i'm here
in black and white
and you see only
your heart
in your hand
and its fallibility
eroding your stability.
You want a picture of the real me?
I can not be captured,
so easily.
Maybe you should toss me a stone.
I'll place it in my breast pocket
and leave an imprint of my heart there
for you to toss around later.
I am the wind
occasionally
I alight
near your window,
whisper in your ear
and tell you a truth or two.
My voice is not so far away
that I can not be found.
My face, not so foreign,
you wouldn't know me
across some smokey bar.
So quit throwing stones.
Empty your pockets
on the nightstand
and remind me
of all the reasons
I should stay
and show you my morning face.