sometimes it finds you

on the hood of a car
or the end of a burning cigarette

carelessly in the eyes of a stranger
or the secrecy of a whisper

the steam of a coffee
and the companionship of a smile

a face to forget
and the broken continuity of a memory

the hard metal of a camera
and the expired film

interlocked fingers
and the feeling of her body

shameless as it should be
love is bound by circumstance and fear

of what I am not sure

yet broken by passion

it is good
it is kind
it is holy

it is mine