If only you were some ill-conceived conceit:
unlikeable, unreal. cardboard cutout, replete
with evidence of failure, warning signs flashing by like
high-watt highway lights, and eyes so very unlike fullerite.

Your eyes were sharper than diamonds, and nowadays
they cut into me, but I can’t meet their gaze.
And you know what they say:
that  everything looks perfect from far away,
and you look real perfect right now...

I smile at how stupid i sound.
This isn’t a love poem.

When i first met you, you were a whirlwind,
a new friend, an enigma, and every breath we drew
intermixed, condensed by winter’s tricks
till we were somewhat inseparable,
and every word we wrote hid
a smile, every step we took
towards each other bridged miles.

Well you’re less a whirlwind now,
and more an aftermath.

I want these words to reach you
and cut deep:
Love is a dance that takes two
and you broke my feet.

Let the moon bless this spell, let it drench these woods with its cold light. My glimmering stars, grains of sand washed upon the blessed shores of this universe. Sing for me your infinite song of time and hold off your bright and cruel mother until all requested deeds have been done.

Just what lies o’er yonder lustful future? Tender embraces from my purest loved one? A thousand strokes from a wandering counterpart? A declaration of emotion from my forbidden equal? If all goes as agreed, my heart’s greatest desires will be set in stone. And written in blood under the roof of this ancient bothy. Beneath the aureole of a billion stars.