My love,
You bring me back into the world.

Like white; still
petals of a gardenia,
spiraling into life.

Like hands folding edges of bible verses

these lines are my only sanctuary.

Somewhere there is a glass vase,
with white Lilly's wilted at the edges.

A pile of letters, unceasing.
Always arriving.

A candle half its lifespan.

A hair laying between the creases of her sweater.

I suppose we go bit by piece, sometimes having not knowing.

I imagine Hunter would have spread his arms wide.

Take me further and nowhere
outward and vanished.

For I have seen the most golden a person can be.

Road passing ocean.

I live, I live.

In the vestige of wind that carries me.

Tell me again,
why trees grow towards light.

Why we trace each others skin,
as if heaven sent.

And however
dreadful; unpromising

tell me why poetry is still seeking.

(  C . C )

I love the reoccurring way melodies visit her mind,
Desiring nothing but to be sought into an existence molded in time.

( C . C )

We lay in silk like mortality.
And I give into everything a night could offer
two souls indulging in a land fading so quickly.

In the morning, my love.
I will gather myself at your bedside.
as if to say you unravel me in the most
necessary ways.

Like moon fall pacing its way towards solidarity;


( C . C )

There's something beautifully human
about finding whats lovely and keeping it close
for as long as possible.