So it's night
So it's dark
So it's quiet
So am I.

Bathed in electric shadow
I push blues and whites
In cream curdled from clouds
And shades of grey and green.

In politics and paint you're born
'Welcome to the world.
You're going to make someone very happy.'
Me.

So how many days
Can you spend in nights?
Let me know, faithless print
For eyes watch us, praying fondly.

I get confused, often
Spraxically distopic in a utopian person
We'll succeed together
We'll fly on splinted wings.

I can write love poems too, you know,
But I'm only here for the future
So let's wait, together
And work for something we still breath for.

I'm here for you being here for me
And I grow branches in the night's silence.
An ode to breathlessness
And the chill of flush for the quiet.

I recognized him, not by his ruffled hair,
But by the way he ran his fingers through it.
Not by the clothes he wore,
But the way it shook as he nervously bounced his leg
Like this was our first date again.
Not by his bag or flowers,
But by the scratchy marks on his coffee cup
Showing how picky the boy is.
When I sat across from the boy, so familiar,
I knew it was him by the tinge of a smile
When he made a joke.
And by the way his nose scrunched up
When he realized his coffee was still not right.
And the rhythmic tapping as he stirred more sugar in
Just so he can make jokes about me
Being as bitter as coffee when he returns.
He could look completely different,
And I would still know him better
Than I know myself.
For, when we said goodbye,
I recognized him not by his lips,
But by his kiss.

The coffee on my lips
makes me think
of you
and that time we sat
for hours
as if time was endless
and the world had stopped
for you and I

he used to be king of a kingdom
but now he is a wreck
ocean waves will stop his strides
then break his bones;
even so he is a colossal wreck
the kind that looms in the
inky-black depths
majestic
haunting
to tear away from him
is unthinkable
(he used to be unsinkable, too)

“Cigarette? “ He held out his pack.
“Sure”, I said.” I don’t see any harm in it now.”
My recent foe, now friend, was dressed in Wehrmacht Grey.
I wore Khaki as I had in life, stained in the front around the heart.
His coal black helmet bore proof of his fatal blow.
Other than being dead we were both none the worse for wear.
We watched without passion the play before us:
the waves of boys in Khaki Green, breaking against the Atlantic wall.
Such Courage was shown on both sides this day.
I confess I had felt only fear. Terror as bullets tore into my heart.
My new friend felt the same. We were both glad our deaths were quick.
The alternative was here upon display.
Soon we must head above, or below, as the gods decide.
But we had decided for just a while to stay
And watch the action on this Longest Day