love is not static.
it is not constant.
it comes and it goes,
in bursts of unbounded emotion
that are relevant
only in the short fiery moments
that it is felt.
the proximity of your touch still makes my skin
ripple like the surface of a lake
and draws the breath from my aching lungs
crushed by longings too like despair
we sign off on our daily lives
for the deeper beauties of existence
yet they chime for us
with such pronounced clarity
the voices of sublimity are as thin
as paper whispers
.the.sunday.160 (without spaces)
too long has my mind been occupied
by silly useless things.
sullen clouded dusks reek
of nostalgia, and heavy eyelids
wish to rid my bones of sleeplessness