There is no burden

of faking light

in the moments

we connect

Somehow,

the whole atmosphere twists

as we sort of levitate

and laugh together

You have painted

our colors many times

but maybe not blended

and without the sense of relief

I cannot seem to choose

where to end a sentence

because we are so open

to more more more

Long lights

across our tundra

with little worry

for the cold

Reliving some pockets of memory

is like taking a jagged blade

and carving myself up

to some pseudo-Omnipotent

who just wants me to hurt.

He lashes at me and doesn’t care

I already have a head start

in tearing away at myself.

Nostalgia is like a whip.

Some time ago,

I gave up most thoughts of tomorrow

just to survive today.

It’s mostly worked.

Yet, I have been granted moments

of relief, few but persistent,

enough to make me toss

faded hopes in place of new ones.

A faraway voice singing

about eyes like jewels and pleasure

with no limits

and it’s one more cup before you go

I stare at the cup- I have been that cup,

the last hurrah, a lost little bird

looking for a pillow for my hair

but one more cup and you’re gone

The music is plain but makes me

wild inside,

a flame settling where my heart should be

and maybe I’ll have a cup too

Whatever spirit we seem to share

has no age or season,

a love without reason

and you set the cup down and are gone

At the treeline

impatient

impetuous

with breathing

horizon far ahead

glories behind

internal stomping

before liftoff