Although he is mine,
We are galaxies dancing

as if to collide
We are elbow and table

mere “good manners” to keep us apart
Yet Persephone will not see the sun
Electron to fly off

another nucleus to never touch
Consider the light reflected off his eyes
The skin on my shoulder smells like his hair
Relief of a shower steals warmth,

comfort, dress damp and cooling like his heart

Should I tell him of the night
Music throbbing through my chest

another pair of lips
My skin never smelled like foolish music

thieving lips, and one night stands
My skin smelled like my skin

until it smelled like his
Can I touch the moon

when it’s hardly the size of a thumbnail?
If stars don’t twinkle

fire is constant
Then my inconstancy is just

the atmosphere bending pictures of our lips


closer to each other
If only atmosphere would bend

my love to touch my hand

My father told me

“Statistically speaking, first loves don’t last.”
I am sick of numbers and statistics

I’m done with words and with feelings
Perhaps the world is unquantifiable
Perhaps the world is unqualifiable

There was one last whiff

of him of my dress this morning
I breathed his scent

lying on my bed
And wished his voice into my head

Drifting back to sleep