I ride on the back of a lonely elephant
and he tells me there is no shame in loss
and suffering is brief.
I trust him
for he would remember.

There is gospel over hill and yonder
songs of a god whose name has not graced my lips
since I was young enough to believe
true love conquered all
and ugliness was apparent in blink and gait.

It says to love
because love is the most beautiful gift He gave us.
I shake my head, such foolishness -
trust is my greatest treasure
for it is the only way to deify someone.

I wish no metamorphosis to be your God
when you open your secrets and fiddle with your nightmares,
for I only wish to take your hands
cradle your heart
and kiss your eyes, breathe your soul.

everything is warm and alive at this time of night.
2 am, while the entirety of the town is resting
my mind is creating stories and projecting memories.

the retrospections are deep and comforting,
offering more to me than sleep ever could.
I see them in shades and hues of red
keeping me warm in a way my bed cannot.

maybe this is better than sleep

maybe I was just meant to think
instead of dream.

from balconies the color of butter,
i write apology letters stained in leaky love
on paper wrappers of water drinking glasses
the pen marks are light
all the lines run over.

I am watching myself
from two years prior,
trying to find a minute to break the ice
and break it to myself
that i have missed some of the points

and some of priorities have been placed out of order
like all the letters
we scramble
endlessly
until there is one less tile,
and one less hello,
one more goodbye
and two more
'i don't knows'

i'm stopping the signal for a little while,
there are eight peaches rolling down a hill
and i've been watching for the cross walk
where almost all of them are stopped

(in the inside show of children
they pick them up like baseballs
and they laugh so full
thunder couldn't shake them,
they climbed so high
the balconies made friends with them.)