the rain used to sing to me through these old skylights...lead and glass that teach us to look up for the light...sifted through the flakes of chipped paint - stark white against the dust, leaves, old papers...like sifting ashes to save the bones...keepsake, a reminder...and the asphalt out there has turned to water...walking upon it you were like a prophet rising up into the streetlight like steam pouring from a manhole...pavement angel...that black bird singing to me again in your meditative silence...and you made it closer...heaven was only half as far that night...like some secret stone i must have stumbled on in a dream when i had seen your tears...i left daisies on the dashboard and thorns in the palm of your hand like nothing would ever be beautiful enough to show you...candles flicker in my bedroom to the heave of your last sigh hours after you've gone...you'd kiss off the shadows with a lover's eager lips and a child's curiosity for answers...you used to drive into me with this force of growth like a new born leaf, wet with dew, yawns and stretches into the day...i put my face in the sun, shut my eyes, bite into my bottom lip and think of when i pressed my lips against that place just below your earlobe with my chin on your shoulder...and the greed and taunt, the seduction, the clenched teeth, the taught thighs, the thrill of watching you wither into a pile of sweat and breath on my chest like you had seen it all now and if death could please just come now and take you away from all this now because you don't know if you will ever be this happy again now...and i lay beneath a wasted you, looking up for light, because heaven was only half as far that night...