Halfway There by Jonah Cohen

indescribable

it's just a vase full
of

dead tulips in

the bath (room)
window but

they mean so much,
the

tickle in my throat,
the sound

of music
in my head...
(you rattle like)

edges

of a tomb and i
can't

even face you
when

you've gone. wanting things
to

come back is dangerous.
it's

just a jar of troubles,
on

my doorstep, vocalizing fears
in

my trembling, trembling
palms...