we were the last of leaves on the december nights, when icicles crept in on the fires, flickering on top of the house lanterns, and true to our endings, we were separated by thousands of miles of veins running between us. connected, yet disconnected by the awry storm looming within the edges of frozen breeze, you and Ifluttered and fell, like eagle feathers, from the height of a million sighs..
today when our evenings finally break,
city lights shall chase away traces of stars
for history will burn in our bones and ache;
so we don’t chase perfection,
we embrace our scars.
faces from decades ago peer back at me
from the wells
where we threw our new year’s eves
instead of copper dimes,
wishing for more wishes to wish upon;
because somehow I knew
that the streetlight you stood under
and shadows would collide
until you became just another obsidian presence
on the walls of a ragged footpath.
time gently wore down the rhapsody
crashing in our eyes..
I think our names still remain written
side by side, carved in a lonely bench
on a rocky beach
like foredoomed lovers;
while we built parallel paths
pebble by pebble,
meeting at a phantom intersection.
we never intersect.
we talk, and write letters with no destination-
for there is none.
you linger in my lungs
like the november heat,
burning a month too late..
decades crept on our bones
as we fluttered like stars
in the evenings.
and november fell into december..