It feels like
The days pass faster
Than there are sunsets
For me to catch,

Because for so long
    Have I strived
To chase beauty,

But endlessly I seem
    To forget
That perhaps capturing it
Defeats the goal
    Of experiencing it,

So now I find myself
    Like a fly trapped
Between the glass
    And the screen
Of the window to
    Some outside world,

Doomed to burn up
    In my self-generated
Heat, born from the
    Friction of my struggle.

If I imagine rain
     A downpour dampening
This melancholy mess
Matted and mistaken,
     Strung from strings
Uncertain and chimes
    Brass and scratched,
Headlights screeching
Unforgiving into the swift
    Grasp of dusk
    Over cornfields serenaded
By a cacophony of
     Twitching twigs
     Broken and rattling
Against my ribs beginning to hollow,

If the rain
Could caress my worries
And cauterize my concerns,
I'd wade in the
Static of storm clouds
     And cheer to the
     Clap of atmospheres
          Cracking, crackling
               Chaotic sheets
Of tips and taps,
And oceans down the
     Windows and a song
     Crafted on the roof
That protects me
Unrightfully so,
As I need to be soaked,
I need to wash away
In a flood of bubbling
Rain and splash
     Against the abstraction
     Of these thoughts,
Baking in the sun
Like tea that has only
     Begun to brown.

I'm still straining
     To see the vibrancy
Of colors painting reality,

But at least I've
     Caught my breath
And found my sound.

Only when I see
     Nothing but trees
           For miles
And hear
     Nothing but wind
           For hours
Will I understand
      The things I run from.

How content
     Could it be
That in this life after death
     I grow again as a willow tree,
Standing weak to
     Dry wind blowing calm,
           In a grassy field,
           High on a hill,
     Alone against the contrast
           Of the sky
     And together with the symmetry
           Of existing just for the sake of it.

I remember the smell,
Like old wood and
     Lake water
Somehow found itself
     Mixed into some sea
           Of sheets,

And I remember
Waking up,
     Entangled and drowning
In an ocean of
Unfamiliar bedspreads
As you climbed into
      The morning soaked
Bed with me.

Your skin soft
     And vanilla
          And brushing lightly
Against the hairs on my arm
     That you made stand up tall,
Kissing me awake
     As I pushed your auburn
         Strands of fire
         Hair whispering in a
         Tickle against my ear.

The way your hand
     Rested with possession on my chest
           And tapped some forgotten tune
As we waited
For afternoon to
     Beckon us downstairs,

The steady hum of
The shore catching
The waves of the
      Lake shimmering green
      In the summer heat
           At the wooden base
                Of our cabin outside.

And I remember
     Our collective shut of eyes,
Resting our foreheads together
     As our hands journeyed
          To reach one another's
          Beneath the home in the sheets
We wished to never leave.


That was two years
     And a love and a half ago,

So now I long
     For nothing more
Than these summer mornings
To wake up not so lonesome
                                                  anymore.

Even though
      It's been years,
Whenever I see fireworks
     I think of you.