Growing older, feeling younger. Sit with me for a second.

I recall
calling your name
into the dawn;
Don’t you lose yourself
even if we lose control
because I found myself
and I give it to
You

Matches and silhouettes strike and etch away at the candle-wax covered macrame, connecting the torches of the sentinel guards as dots.

I, too, concord and comply with the noblest of accomplices.

I wonder, wandering past the dots and the silhouettes, and put another trigger down on the manifold. Let’s put away the dust, let’s push away the dust, let’s make something happen here.

She put her fingertips in the concrete and left our names, and everytime I pass it I think to myself “Here we are” and I find my fingers wet with concrete.

A drifter without a current: I’ll make my own waves

We called it hostile chemistry,
but me, I —
well, honestly I just saw it as another way to shake away
the frost from my aging limbs
and bear these battle scars like armor again.
I’m counting pH and parts per million and pixels per inch
as I run my hand to dust away the dust from your vertebrae.

Before you gave me the stars, my nights were filled with Black.
Before I collapsed in your arms, I was running out of breath.

I’ve been searching for a symptom to show I’m more than that, I’m more than a mark on your skin.
I’ve been waiting for the chemicals and courage to let me in exactly where I want to be.

Flash this smile across your skin; it’s not easy being this stable when my molecules have a natural propensity to drift. But for you, Darling, I’m immovable.

You have the world in your hands,

why do you dare to see how hard you must throw it down to make it break?

The familiar corners of this room seem lonelier now that you’ve gone off to start your day with a lingering kiss and a fleeting, optimistic glance.