It was the longest of days
It was the shortest...
Spring is blazing dull
A fire pit of icicles
Brutal suggestion in the day
Gentle persuasion under the moon
Crippling voices turn to static
As bodies melt in heat
As bodies melt in sleep
Spin the hands on the clock
Like you spin the bottle
Smash it on the floor
As you blow a kiss to Saturn
Avoiding your reflection as you
Walk upon the shards of daggers
Just like you ignored her mouth
While kissing her lips of poison
Never changing with the seasons
Just adapting to the temperature
Of a soul the color of chaos
Of a heart with no price tag but massive debt
Laying out bread crumbs
With words as your bait
Like a senile, crooked tree
Trying to divorce its fate

It was already late when we approached my friend’s front gate.
The Sun was setting in the western sky.
“Our days grow imperceptibly shorter now.” He observed.
“Yes, we’re past the Solstice.” was my reply.
I put my weight upon my cane as I ascended his front steps,
And caught the sight of two old men reflected in a window’s glass.
“Our days grow shorter” I agreed.

I’m not sure if he noticed, but
I’d omitted “imperceptibly”.