i'm burning whatever's left of us:

i'm burning
these foundations

i'm forgetting you

i'm walling myself
in flame

i'm watching you walk
away

the doorway collapses
around me before i
realise it's too
late.

what spaces do
you leave between the
lines? what places do
you hide, beside mine?

ivory lines lead parallel
from dawn to dawn: from
pictures of you that adorn
agelessness.

prayers to gold-
tipped sunsets won't
bring that dawn
again.

you're floating out in the sea, you're washing laundry,
strung and folded in the storm.

you want to crease your
jacket with the tide: it's black and grey like your limbs
and arteries.

but i wanted you to press against me. i wanted you
to give up, to say "i remember".

we're running out:
we're ***** and worn and no ocean can open our
rusted, rotting hearts.

i think you're waiting
for the decay.

you stare into the depths and let them float away.

every time you
come around i think
the sun rises just a little

as if to see a little further over
the low-hanging horizon

as if to cast another green over
our shoulders, draping us in
timelessness

then hesitates—
then falls to the depth
of earth:

and you're leaving.

from behind the
rising lights, your hands
dancing like little wind.

i couldn't look away
as you sang
and they sang

i knew what was most beautiful

—the lights passed in
a moment of you.

we'll feel-
as collegiate corners
are filling the pages of
our tragedies.

i attempt to seek
next century's repose:
the motion of a thousand
spinning conjectures.

your restlessness holds
junction and duration,
consciously screaming of our
former years.

i'll seek-
you in oscillations
and what little you
left of memory.