you drive as an
ageless curse;
sparrow feather
to your chest,
you wait
to take flight.

i bare my shoulders to the wind's chill.
i sit next to you on the car ride home.
i watch as shadows gather on your skin.
i pine for twilight after the sun sets—

and still hear you in the pine air
and still feel you in my pining breath
and still hold you in each pined sigh.

then i see you: breath
catches in my throat.

i feel my soul
resounding upon you: sounds
of you, always. do i fool you with my
smile?

i know what i cannot
say: what i can never truly,
truly say:

i miss you i
miss you i miss
you i
miss you i

i'm more than you
could ever tear apart;

my colours blend like
clouds, soaking through
paper.

you ran with me through the terminal, fleeing
the tranquility of geographical association.

it was always the same: a surrender to the overcast;

we watched the sky fill with paper airplanes.

she writes me a requiem
for our encounters, waving
like a flag outside in the yard.

i find her photographs and boots in
odd, less-frequented corners:

we'll never
decipher the scrawled handwriting.