I’ve been chasing this for almost one whole year
with little breaks of lust
tucked in between

The corners of those dates
have dogfolded ears
which stick out to me like a quenched oak tree
in a wide, dry desert

The short pieces
that once formed our long lull
feel nothing close to my feet
coming to a stop,
turning around,
feeling kept—purposefully

My calves are knotted
and my eyelids become cracked
from chasing the Black Hole in the sky:
the hole that used to be the Brightest Sun,
My Sun, the one that I once spoke of
so sweetly:

*“It’s different from theirs
on another planet, it never sets.
There is a light with the nights-- always.

The need to search or ask for love is lost, because so much is given.

And even when I move to a new planet,
where the sun sets and rises
as the moon ascends; loneliness climbing onto its back,
its dark qualities, bordering me,
it will not receive me.

because My Sun is still bright in my mind.”