i used to think love was fire,
bright, consuming,
burning everything it touched.

but with you,
it felt more like daylight,
quiet and golden,
something that warmed
without asking for anything back.

you had those soft gold eyes,
like morning sun
on a window,
and i wanted to be that light,
the kind you reach for,
the kind that stays.

i was sunshine, once.
i know that.
the kind that made you squint
but smile anyway.
but maybe even sunshine
can overstay its welcome,
leave behind a burn
you never meant to carry.

and now i wonder
if i’m just a sunburn memory,
the kind that lingers
long after the warmth is gone.

My spirit yearns to
Leave this godforsaken
City for good

To build a couzy chalet
Hidden somewhere
Amidst the alps

And to watch the
Seasons change while
Playing guitar on the porch
With my dogs at my feet

So why does a quiet life
Keeps getting away from me?

We are fragile figures. Our pillows at the outskirts of paradise. Befriended by dreams, the mind begins to process the day in Kodachrome. Once it starts, there's no turning off the pictures. She lies beside me. She's reached paradoxical sleep. I'm still on the outside looking in.

Take me there. Beyond the eyelids, where the mind wanders each night. To where the seeds of disturbance must be resolved within us. Some are strengthened. Others desolve as mist. This is how we survive. Chemical fires burn, become tides of memory. Pass the torch of preservation. Keeping them warm and remembered.

A miraculous routine. Live together. Dream alone. Desolate. Magnificent. My eyes are at the moment the apparitions are shut away. My mind in this place, a stretched fabric. Yet, it's far from alone. In the cataloging of miles and years, I sense an odd fellowship cresting without limit. I thought I saw her smile in agreement from her side of sleep.