still a silhouette weighing like an ache that
yearns to be written into words
the pile of love letters in the desk corner
an sos for anyone whose heart still has enough
untouched land to call home
his smile glimpsed in the flash of a light change
a midnight street crossing and i am young
but not this young to fall again inside a kaleidoscope
sealed into a november evening

the bravura of a violin concerto brushing back my hair
bare hands breaking open old habits to bottle
let the rain tonight sing songs other than missing you
unclasp the hammer wedged beneath my teeth
because there is nothing left to fix, but so much to build
let my tongue be a cocoon, not a nail
not penning the words to bring him back home

with you the light always falls in the right places
so much honey we forget about sunset
and it stays golden all through the night
the water ripples so soft i mistake it for being still
your body so close i mistake it for being mine
and you say
it’s not a mistake