I fell in love, once.
A snowstorm melting from my hair - dripping cataract:
diluted coffee. A dark room filled with language
so beautiful, I almost understood what was said.
Children are getting younger, and this land has no end,
where do you rest your head?
All things are in a constant state of vibration,
a harmony in the space between
our fingers. our hands.
I’ve only ever stopped to listen at night:
two a.m. train rides, staring at fields as they pass my window,
touching the glass to make sure it's real – half hoping to fall through
before being tapped on the shoulder and woken up.
All the while, Summer is slipping away.
no, is gone.
II: I Hope You'll Pick Me Out
”You know, cataracts are beautiful”
”Pain is beauty.”
Blurry eyed, I said I didn’t. and I don’t.
III: These Fires Make the World Burn Brighter
I enjoy chasing sunspots to the edges of my perception,
they pretend to chase me back, but I know they're just trying to make me feel better
while I search for you.
All I remember now is how much my fingertips stung.
I always wondered if this was Heaven,
or just Atlantic City -
but there was something so poetic about not knowing,
so I choose to not know that most of my favorite stars in the sky
are now dead.