y/our laughter is a metronome
playing into the late hours of...

terrified of the light, we die with a mouthful
of words that took root on our tongues...

the impossibly soft hours of dawn
patinas into weightlessness...

you spill light into the evening sun;
lending warmth to an otherwise...

the morning light drinks from your
eyes – a continuous wellspring of...

peered into the belly of the beast
that toils for pageantry, theatre...

the fireplace crackles, washing us in lights
of oranges, reds and yellows – the nights...

i wonder what it is about april specifically
that had it stamped the transitionary month...

i dreamt of you again;
this time in parts...

i sought affection from your words.
you – you needed kind words spoken...

to the man who chased after eternity –
foolishly, i follow in your footsteps...

you sink carnivorous teeth into the
sweetbread, lamenting that it tasted...