i wish to forget
every sorry,
then bury all
our stories,
oh, to hoist a
fresh pen–
and compose our
best again.
abstract
starlight’s
golden path
guides us here
to now,
though i’m not
sure how
we found each
other
through the smoke
of our own
fires.
be my july
sky,
taunt me like
fireflies
on a starless
night,
just don’t promise
the sea,
and don’t fall
for me,
rather,
we’ll take flight.
like a door
opened
slow-
the light cracks
just slightly,
a breeze enters
briskly,
the fear sets in
quickly-
so tempting to
close.
that branch hangs
heavy
over your
brow,
it’s birdless and
parched
and lacking in
bark,
yet, you spot beauty
in it somehow.
i get too eager
whenever you’re near,
i crowd your
space-
breathe in your
face,
must take
a step back
to see you
clearer.
a heart holds
hidden
but still beating where
nobody hears
a sound,
i rest my ear
flush to your chest
to feel it
pound.
i’m close enough to
taste your words
before they’ve left
your mouth,
as practice in
restraint-
i shall wait
till they
come
out.
with cracked hands
all over my
years–
i shiver just
enough
to remind me i’ve
been touched.
a trepid touch ignites ashes
on washed
skin,
like a stream
of dreams
untainted and flowing
towards no clear
ending-
to find pleasure in
the gentlest
of ripples.
hands in the garden 
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