When he leaves,
What he leaves behind,
She knows.

When love is gone,
Where does it go?
She wonders.

She dreamt of him last night,
His arm around her waist,
Her skirt rippling in starlight,
As they danced with a feverish haste.

She whispered "I miss you,"
And placed her hand on his cheek,
His skin was a midnight blue,
A shade from the sun which she seeks.

His warmth kept her alive,
As she blissfully gasped for air,
He took her for a long drive,
Ran his fingers through her hair.

She felt more awake than ever,
As she drifted further into her dream,
Insomnia a wasted endeavor,
Swallowed by a river of moonbeam.

"Please stay here forever," he implored,
But hours could not stretch into days,
So she left through the backdoor,
Eyes wide open and head in a haze.

I saw you,
In the bustling pantry,
Among the office lunch crowd,
Your eyes met mine,
For the first time.
Send help.

I soon forgot,
All about you,
Didn't know your name,
Didn't think twice of you,
Till I saw you again.
Send help.

Your voice was warm,
And so was your gaze,
My smile was wide like a child's,
Till I caught a glimpse,
Of a ring around your finger.

Send help.

Our forever is built on,
A temporary palace,
With paper-thin walls,
Our bed a foam mattress.

Our forever is sprawled across,
The stained carpeted floor,
Beneath our ***** laundry,
Messes we choose to ignore.

Our forever is cracked into,
Every omelet and French toast,
Served with a glass of cold juice,
And kisses on the nose.

Our forever is written on,
Every inch of your midnight skin,
Each stubble and razor bump like Braille,
A love language I've never seen.

Our forever is tested,
By time zones and distance,
Will our palace walls crumble,
Or stand in defiance?

Our forever is put on trial,
By people who shouldn't bother,
A xenophobic aunt,
And an uncle who's a pastor.

Our forever is cursed,
By a father's daily prayer,
Wrapped in his own infidelity,
The quiet naysayer.

Our forever is assembled,
From sticks and stones hurled at us,
Will it endure hurricanes and haters,
Or is it just a temporary palace?

Rain sprinkling on our glasses.
Wind rattling our coats.
We were walking down an unfamiliar street,
Gravel crunching beneath our feet.
You smiled but then you stopped,
A curve that wasn't fully stretched.
You pulled out your hand from your coat pocket,
Began counting on your fingers.
Counting the days we have left.

One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Stop.

Maybe if you stopped counting,
Numbers would cease to exist.
If numbers ceased to exist,
Whatever we have left,
Could only be measured by moments,
Not days,
Hours,
Or minutes.
But moments.

In each moment,
A baby is born into this mess of a world,
But is readily embraced by it.
In each moment,
A schoolgirl is crying alone in a bathroom stall,
Waiting to be saved from isolation.
In each moment,
A couple shares their first kiss.
In each moment,
Beer bottles are smashed,
Wives are beaten,
Children threatened.
In each moment,
A dreamer stops dreaming,
A poet stops writing.
In each moment,
Hellos are idly uttered,
Goodbyes are not said.

How does one count every moment,
On fingers that are numbered?

Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Stop.

You didn't understand.
How could you?
So in that moment,
I grabbed your hand,
Held it in mine.
Our fingers intertwined.

Five.
Ten.

i'm a flower;
you fall for the petals,
and the captivating scent.
you uproot me,
crush the stem,
forget to water me,
and wonder why i wilt.