i've never thought possible why i can feel so many different things at once
until i watched the colors drip from the sunset

my heart speaks of warm hands and ephemeral affairs
but what i truly long for is not another fleeting shadow pressed up against the bookcase
but for someone to speak graciously to me
not with the dalliance of their moving hands
or even their lips;
but with their words

i read that in the darkest hour
flowers are most redolent
but maybe that is an illusion
by the blindfold of the night
after all,
it's been known to captured me, too

the sky comes forward
in soft whispers
but fades before i have a chance to respond
i think i may just be lost
in this firmament