From the vault

While sifting through all the notes and random scraps of paper which make up my poetry scrapbook, I came across this little scribbling. I thought I'd post it since it's a fairly accurate representation of the core from which most of my poems are constructed. It does feel worthy of further development, so keep an eye out for a more refined version in the near-ish future.

Flower after flower;
Fragments of a romance
Lost in a whirlwind of petals.
Her silhouette had danced
Upon cigarette tips.
She'd dreamt of cellophane
And unlit candles.
But she'll never believe in love.