are we
what we do
or
what we don't do
or is not doing
enough of an action
that
all you do
can be counted toward
all you have
made sure
not to.

Time doesn't heal.
And the wound knows it.
Layers gather on the ****
but the damage remains,
hiding itself deep inside
the secret scar

i feel your words pressing
into me

they're softer
than i ever thought

"i want to melt into you"

why are they only in my head

there is no reconciliation.
we're bleeding like paint
in the rain—
wilting flowers
colourless in
our greys.

sometimes your eyes
double, your words
curl my cheek, still lingering
to brush stray strands.

i'm open inside out;
when you turn away
i know the hinges are closing.

i am everything you need:

anchored,
linear along this dais—

red, dying.

we're in your car and it
smells warm, solid.

you envelop me,
your eyes are pools of nightfall:
we're brushing shoulders—

time didn't stand still
even though i wanted it to.

i don’t know why
her eyes
why she soars over plains
and mountainsides

almost
to hold me, almost to say
goodbye.

i don’t know why
her eyes
drown in moons,
puddle in the rain;

in my heart so tirelessly
reside.

stellar masses collide
beyond you; they silhouette
your ethos, slip loose your
hair—
they pattern your fingertips
and colour your
sigh

their flame:
a colossus
in your eyes.