No sound of fears
Don’t blink for them to appear
Our terms are clear
Our terms revered
Are you used to dashing out
Shifting gears
And then we turned

Your sounds are dear
A taming whisper
“Hurry inside,
Spring won’t come,
Don’t be scared.”
I lived it, dear
Without a real care
You drew lines
down mine
I carved crimson
down yours.
We told the gods our desire
And we lived

In my ear, you hum, my dear
Acute sounds, you hummed, my dear
I come out flustered
No clue of afterwards
Unassuming as you moved forward
No clue that when spring comes
You will leave the back door open
It will be cold

It will be cold

high noon
she looked up with a tight grip
screaming infidelities
and refusing memories

there are sparks in her eyes
as she closed them tight
she couldn’t hold on hard enough

high noon
the drums grow louder
they grow louder in your heads
she’s young
you are, too

quarter after two
she rests her head in your neck
the sun finds itself on your glistening brown skin
while your eyes are incomparable
to the glow at half past three
through the blinds hiding you
from the world

her hands grip your nape
pulling you in for a taste of one last reality
you wrote promises on her neck
she thought you’d keep them
longer than a quarter to five
you breathe deep
your light shines through her
who do you see in her eyes

six thirty
you avert each other’s gaze
you are strangers
in the night, the owls wonder
because in the dark, you are alone
you are empty

she is too