the world starves itself of poetry-
steadfast resolution; we inundate
our own breaths with poems.
like stars born dying,
there’s an upper bound on
how much love one is exposed
to, but i swear with you
it feels infinite.
there he goes,
spewing verses left-and-right,
i know, i’m sorry, ever since
you held me close and staved
me from myself, I knew you
would be my favourite
breath of poetry.
