The true love is when
one love something for itself...
December approaches its end,
clouds trail mountain tips...
Your brilliance used to stain
this broken town with orange...
Once upon a twilight,
I would prance across...
Does loneliness
Immerse itself...
My chest is cold and I'm left feeling less
than I am...
never again will i feel this pain
I said...
Your tired eyes still glow.
They remind me of dandelions...
Let water, trickling from rooftops
Stoop to cup your cheeks...
Should I compose a sonnet just for you?
You are a judge who's tired of reading them...
I come bearing fruit from the northern isles—you...
and wonder which flesh is sweeter, more tender...
blood is crystalizing within your veins,
as if it’s mastering the art of sculpting...