please don't take this the wrong way but
the way your face looked in the moonlight is always
at the edge of my thoughts

i don't usually say this to people but
you make me feel like an ee cummings poem
you open and close me with your smallest gesture
or texted emoticon

you know
i have a girlfriend and
she's what i need
i think, and the insistent pull of your gravity
is only a temporary thing, but
i am only a temporary thing, so i live
the knife's edge, i hold you
platonically and always say yes
to the plans you make and never
ever kiss you or even intimate that
i want to kiss you (i want to kiss you
like broken dams and rushing floods i
want to kiss you) and i tell her that
i love her
and i do but
this nova or crush or infatuation is too fleeting,
this me is too fleeting, so
i hold the fire as close as i can hold it
without burning, so close that sometimes it's hard
to breathe and i let the smoke fill my lungs because
i know it won't last

and tonight is the lunar eclipse
and that cold rock that lit up
your face so perfect
as we stretched on a blanket under the stars at the drive-in
bleeds old copper, sleeps, and

the darkening moon makes me think that the world is ending
it whispers that
this small tidal pool world of maybe-us
is ending

leaving only salt-crusted ****** rock
and the sense of having lost
something that drowns like the ocean

and i know that eclipses like this are common empty shadows --

how can so many wonders (so many full moons or sunsets
or held hands) be so ordinary?