Monday, December 22, 2014

Past and Present

On rooftops with the best intentions
Our nervous hands stuttered over skin.
Like children bathing in neon puddles,
April nights warming over our nakedness.

Spur of the moment,
A warning not to kiss because that would be too far.
Maybe it started out in lust
By the end you'd stolen my heart.

And I have carried that exchange for over a thousand days
But it's time to lay the lights down low
And make peace with my ghosts.
For all the loves I have killed and sewn together
Following a snatched handful of blueprints
That I never was able to make breathe.

And in the end you are an epoch
And I am a name and a face,
Less than a song to you.

We've never even kissed;
I have thought every day about kissing you.

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