We’re lose ends; you and me

conjoining sights over cold coffee

mugs, in areas not a lot can see.

This isn’t the place to be

but the hell in me

adores this no end tyranny

of baseless conversations

and unconscious memorization

of the number of freckles on your left cheek.

Your body, strong yet meek

has learned to seek


in the smoked tiles of a thirty year old cafe.


I know ballet

didn’t work for you.

Blue was my color not yours

And the moon

had been unsparingly mystical

that night.

Yet how is it that nothing

seemed brighter than you

as you danced across the open air stage.

Your moves typical,

yet unpredictable.

dressed traditional

and in your mininmal

efforts into each


of the violin

made me run

out of air to breathe…


Slowly, unhurriedly, bit by bit

and then all at once,

I became yours.



Your rocker jeans

divulged the stories

of our adventures

hoarding weeks

of dirt

and sins

stranger paths were lined


the frays of denim

hung around the rips

on your knees


don't matter

because darling


if they knew

we wouldn't be

mere two

branded "madness

Dated: 8-11-16