That Summer

Like sungrown nectar, it ripples sweetness across the roof of my mouth. It is no longer a distant memory, but one that loops like the 90 passing suns in front of my film reel lashes. I see porch light stars and know the beauty in salt and sweat on skin under crescent moons. Letting it burrow into your marrow and giving yourself wholly to to another until our veins run with melted colors of vibrancy and zealous infernos.


Here lives lie in petals and ornate carvings. And I, I am overtaken by what remains in the lettering my fingertips trace. The flesh on the back of my neck rises in Braille, here among broken ground and still waters. I kiss the names of the sacrificed, and exit under ivory archways.


Darling, you see, your love has driven me quite mad, but I cannot help entangle myself in my muse. I want to live with you in fields of sugarcane and unkempt flowers, where this universe of fire and ice can leave us uninterrupted in our bed of leaves and dew. I can only hope to pass through the summers and springs with you, sipping on sweet tea and apricot seeds.

Birthday on Market Street

We sat in crooked wooden chairs and watched a man mumble to himself and another wipe his nose against the sleeve of his Disney themed sweatshirt. Quite a paradox seeing such a hardened man adorned with childhood characters.

The End of All that I Knew

I can still remember the first time he introduced himself to me. We shook hands – which seems absolutely ridiculous when I think of what we were and maybe still are to each other – and I could feel the static cling between us. I felt my lips part slightly when he repeated my name back to me.