The thick, jet-black sky was teeming with stars,
each one twinkling to the beat of our hearts,
ba thump,
ba thump,
ba thump,
and danced when our hands trailed too close,
my frigid fingertips trailing across his hot palms,
trying timidly, feverishly, to reach equilibrium.

His tenacious coffee-brown eyes animated,
stirring at the very hint of my voice,
(a mere mouse squeak) as I looked away,
pawing at my arm, fidgeting my words
into mush in front of him,
letting them drop to the seat of the bench like
unfortunate jelly spilled at a picnic,
sticky and clumped, indecipherable,
languorously trailing from my lips
and dripping downward
to the cool-grey concrete slabs
bolstering us up among the night.

It was tedious.
He knew it would be
as he beamed back,
still watching my words flow
like molasses, so dense and viscous
they never came.

He kissed me.

Had I expected it,
I might've stopped him,
tried to make it more artificial,
more methodical, contracted,
mechanical, but I didn't.
I couldn't.

The feeling pressed through me
like a current,
an electric shock pulsing,
refusing to stop until it hit my core,
reverberating through my chest,
forcing my eyes open.

Taking advantage of this moment
he teased, knowing I couldn't speak,
not then,
not now,
not after this;
when I looked back at him,
his gaze was much calmer,
more delicate,
and his laughter floated off
like feathers.

I kissed him.

last night the world slipped in
quietly through my window;
police sirens, car alarms,
church bells, rainstorms
collecting in a pool
on my bedroom floor,
coffee cups clinked and
kettles boiled,
babies were born and
ashes were thrown
and though I was tired
I stayed up all night listening;
the collective madness
of the world
lulled me back to sleep
and i woke with its bitter
sweet taste on my tongue;
craving more.

Falling leaves hurry to gather
at one worn headstone after another
like a funeral party uncertain where
lies the lost loved one it grieves;;

Time and wind tug on the memory
left in this absent minded cemetery
no one comes visit but weather and me
and the dead lying under the trees

have stories nobody can read.

I drowned all my memories of you,
and let them drift to the bottom;
sea foam bubbled as you sank, and the thick green froth gurbbled when you plunged-
into the abyss, my cavern of exile.

I had to **** you so I could live;
but the fish, too, became intoxicated,
and so they were gone; crushed coral littered your descent into the black ink, to the places my mind won't reach.

My feet placed firmly, barefoot, caloused, in the chilled sands of time,
watched the water go still, and the sounds of life, birds, and the wind ceased, all the while the salty smell of defeat rest across the monotone blue.

I had to **** you.