time hovers over my love. i would think them one in the same if not for the fact that my time is finite. my love is not. i ache for a conclusion i hope to never find. my contradictions are both a burden and muse. my love (for them) could never be simple.
salty waters swell inside my aperture. a vail of inevitability. the steadfast surveillance of my viscera. i am more than just my function. and these leaky lashes smear my face with a confusion I’ve never known, but a contentment you could never buy. they refuse to sell it. it’s not yet a thing. it’s mine.
when they are away, something will always be missing.
i just want us outside the somber howl of time. i want us in colors and tastes, sensations and dreamy heirlooms. i want indulgent connections, ample space. sweet, sappy truth. here and now. so little more.