Flame to be tasted,
A carnal sunrise devours;
Likewise, she weeps hate.

"what's this hug for?"
"because you're the kind of person who handles heartache better than illness and i don't know about you but that kinda says a heck of a lot about your character, i hate it. i hate that you've grown accustomed to hurt, it's never not foreign to you anymore."

I dread the day
where I look to
you
sitting next to me like
there's nothing new
to learn or
find in
me

Where my hands are
so familiar
and this old
routine is
dull
and you
forget I'm
loving you
with all my
aching soul

you exist in the
darkest forests
of my thoughts
the deepest,
Ash Grove swamps,
and I'm afraid
of the lines I
can't change
the fault in me
that remains,
and you losing the
spark when you hear
my name

Oh god,
I dread the day.

"I fell for a nobody loves me kind of guy. Maybe it's because I'm a nobody loves me kind of girl."

OLD?
Young people say that I am old and gray,
Not worth the powder, to ******* away.
I just shake my head and laugh and say,
If you are lucky, you’ll be the same way.
I may be old, and as for the hair of gray.
That shows experience, and time’s sway.
If you think, getting old is bad, and punitive.
Spend a little time to think of the alternative.

C R Binion

That night, I heard
the violin.
Between staves of
leaves,
string-encrusted frills,
I heard a violin,

not cry, not sing, but
dream.
I heard a violin dream.

Before long, after
soon,
I heard the violin.
Between shifting, fleeting,
mindful things,
I heard a violin,

fitted unmathematically
within a memory.

5am wakes a blinding bright orange sun
Standing out against the pale grey sky.
Below, a cityscape of grey.
No cars and few people move this early.
Portland, like most of us, is having a foggy morning.

Two bodies fade to color on a rooftop.
Their crusty eyes
Crack to vibrant orange light,
Half expecting search helicopters
Or seagulls pecking at their limbs.
Praying, for ravens.

They only find each other.
A beach towel beneath them
Half a bottle of ***** beside them
Next to their backpack and undergarmets.
It almost resembles a prayer circle.
Kicked blanket at their feet,
Brazier overhead,
Belt and trinkets to the side.
Lord knows what they were summoning last night.
They sure as hell can't remember.

They only remember touch and smell,
Light lavender hips,
Big Bourbon chest,
Fingers tracing artwork in the dark
Admiring both
Memories and their permenance.

Unfortunately,
This wasn't permenant.

After they climb down it's
He to a hospital.
She to a husband and child.

The orange sun coo'd too early.
Just two hours of freedom
Before the goodbyes and consequences.

A short glimpse of another world.
Hoping for closure.
One step forward.
Three steps back.

When their bodies left the rooftop.
They held hands.