time is a lonely thing

i. you once split your lip to prove a point

but i can’t remember what it was now.

we are so far from those war-torn creatures

with gunfire for eyes. we are so far from the room

where you burned holes into my body in the low light.

i remember it was so romantic watching the blood run

down your chin, knowing that it could have been mine.

we used to be such loverboys, with our sharp teeth

and dog-bone eyes. we used to sink the knives in

every night, dance to the white noise on the radio,

tear each other apart because we loved the colors.

i could recognize you by your tendons, still.

i could outline your wounds in my sleep.

ii. back when you were dead i turned the world over for you

and i found nothing but dirt, writhing and angry.

all the mysteries i overturned wanted to go home.

they did not want to be miracles. they did not want

to see the oceans. they asked for darkness, mostly.

blue moon. red stars. all the earth hummed your name,

and i wished for it back in my palms. you were out there,

somewhere, where the world was upright. the ground did not

speak to you. the dirt did not writhe. your hands were just hands.

iii. i’d like to think we’re living the dream, now.

the world is so quiet and we are so full. you are sitting

next to me, and we are watching the minutes tick by.

there are too many stars out tonight to count

but we could. we have so much time.