Crashbox

morning is a time for new chances;
evening a time for recollection.
woman---
what is she?
a gnawing hunger that slices open the soul
rushing to the warm lighted windows
so inviting...
once there
ever fighting
to flee the perceived strangling box
yet always cold and wondering outside.

a lovely flower; a clean fountain.
remain ever vulnerable
for she is goodness,
and she loves you with open and honest abandon
the eternally broken heart...
receives its consolation