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Recent watercolor, which once again has little or nothing to do with anything,
least of all this poem. 

Moments build
small mountains
between people.

My mountains
grow without
aid of volcanic lava.

Maybe eruptions.
while sometimes unexpected,
purge pain,
retarding the growth
of heartache.

Though while my heart aches,
my mountains
feel ragged
with sharp cuts,
from cutting words.

Now,
I'm without words,
without tears,
longing for both.

Hoping for:
healing from
salt water,
even while it burns.