I hold you.
Tender, tentative, trembling,
thing of beauty in the palm of my pen.
Exhausted from flight,
you lie in perfect trust here
Your breath still,
mine held,
it takes you in.
Your heart,
a cathedral of all I’ve needed in oblivion,
the kind of holy my hands hold only to break.
I am of human.
My members are manned.
They know only the chase for things,
even after they’ve found them.
They are of effort and proof, of reason and time,
they know better than to count on anything other than themselves.
They will not hold on long enough for this love.

I’m afraid its been a minute of you
and a lifetime of my heart,
a black cavern of half-truths and blue lies.
It has turned hollow by evasion,
a grid of tears lines the insides,
a reflection of your kind
in the eye of its memory
it is empty,
and oddly heavy at the same time.

You’re breathing still,
each breath a stub of lead anchored in my chest,
a cog-wheel,
rolling a heart-beat and a breath out of me.
I’ve held it as long as I could.
I breathe you awake.
Your eyes are raw
and red
and longing.
Your heart rushes at the heat of my humanity
Aware, I suppose of how easily it lets me breaks things.
Its been a minute of you.
Now a looming memory
Exhausted,
you return to flight.