Because.

Because I'm all out of answers
and I can't turn off the lights.

Because the memories burn
brighter against the dark,

pure white
like our Sunday's best,
the sleeves ripped to expose
the wrists
where we sow our sins,
our uncertainties,

and pure white as the tissues
that I fill with sorrows
when my poetry overflows.

Because my train of thought has crashed
and left
a fault line in my consciousness
and it shakes me out of sleep
and into thoughts of you.