It is hard, painful even, to accept that some moments may really be ephemeral, simply moments that don’t last as you’d thought and predicted they would
His beautiful eyes that stared inside my heart
Breaking me down inside that house I will never forget
Our gaze breathing between the walls of an otherwise unloved kitchen
How I believed it to mean something of substance
Provide a window however remote into a tiny future that might give birth to more lines and shadows
More lopsided heartbeats that I could untangle later
After summer, but not before I had a chance to sift and soak in some kind of diaphanous golden heaven with you
I had already written the scene
Feathered with clouds and vineyards
Brandy and blooms
Corsican light made its way in cathedral slivers across your face
We had a time making voyages
Our eyes fell apart
Writing books, studying oceans and tasting the waves
We would drive into the desert
Let the orange heat unscrew our souls long enough to feel lighter and more pure
Words were never spoken
The silence had always been enough
Oil and sand covered your mouth
And I was the only one who understood what it took to free you
You said nothing
But I knew you could open up the sun if you wanted to
It would end without the presence of time
With figments and fabric dangling, almost unnoticeable
And in time I’d see your face again
Hanging against the burgundy and chrome of an old theater
Ivy leaves would frame your perfect face
You’d whisper my name and let your breath press upon my cheek
The rush of your sighs
The dreams we deprived
An army of swallows
Made up for lost time
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