today, now, soon, i fly away to your soon empty apartment where i’ll be glad that you are not

these endless days vanishing into nothing -- into the vacant echoing cold of winter – render memory useless. the way you wash yourself in pity and vanilla scented soaps. vain pathetic attempts to gain my attention—my affection. what i feel for you is fear. a specific sense of loathing. for your power of erasure. the way your cold hands—your dull eyes—steal the importance of words. revoke the meaning of poetry. insensate. the momentum or your movements so removed from any consequence in my own to destroy, even, the possibility of pain.

walking home with your new crown

i wonder if these delicious dangerous moments that pass between us -- filled with the desire to let the words we claim and don’t venture out to name – cause us the most pleasure/destruction. because i know that what i feel for you is love – beyond reasonable measure or rational thought – and yet we remain untagged. free to run at full speed, hand to hand, without the fear of falling. we’ve not placed ourselves up so high. if we topple over, under the weight of circumstance, of irrationality, of fate or indecision, then we’ll only suffer those surface damages. we’ll nurse those wounds and know the we knew better under the weight of the lie that this pressure, like the hot flesh between two hands, doesn’t come from the center love and adoration.

maybe i like it this way. this ability to run with you and the sounds of our laughter trailing and tangible just behind.