sleep and dreamevery ebb and flowswims like a memory,floundering or achingthe way they dowhen sleep deems itselfking of impossibility.(these are the timesi wish you couldlove me long enoughto remember,and dream.)
when the eastern sun sinksi wonder if you wouldchange your mind(change yourself,find it in yourheartto feel a little somethingfor me)if you saw the wordsyou've pulled frommy mouth;uncovered by your lips,i find poems under my hands.i write strophes and linesimprinted on your skinwhen i move my fingers away.i have so much toshow you,i could give you so muchto feel,but you slink like anightcrawler from lightto a comfortable recession,and there,you stay.one day,we will talk againand no stammered heartwill beat like birdsif our hands touch;one day,you will realisethat sooner than you have,you could haveshared your selfwith someone elseand been safe-you would have beensafe
glowthere are days i don't want the sun to set on us; where we should race it, rolling westward at an unstopping momentum, bringing erasure to the day's beginnings as we flood toward an unreachable end.it's a day like this when i realise we're impossible -- you, with your baked-clay shoulders, squeezed tight and compact, small but so present, you, with your brier of black bristle encompassing the two lips, softest rose, bringing nature back to intimacy.it makes me catch fire, in our setting sun, to see a desert-bright radiance reflect in your room. it's when you change your clothes behind the wooden door of your dresser; when you return from a shower, a rainstorm bringing me beauty and the complex scent of a clean man; when you dim your light to match the moon's as you strip off the day and safely stow away a secret within me.the sun sets too quickly for us to catch it. the longer you hold me in copper embrace, the sooner we reflect the short daylight we are given.