Watching the flame turn up from the insence like an orange comma suspended in air, the quiet rage between the fire ran red orange and at deep center, blue. My room is scattered with stars and blues, as if I was somehow at the center of it all.

That fire that curls with transparent colors winding like viens is the same staggered line that echoes inside my skin when you curl a smile on one side of your mouth

the end catches me, holds, and this perfect pinprick divide: I will always miss you.

Recent daydreams uncluttered from snow or sobs and instead dipped deep in summer sun steeped in the fascination of yours that is the clouds and watching the weather change my neck cranes left as Mercury swings inside its' lazy orbit. Every summer, one year younger, it seems, in 22 years could be curled up fetal at your feet, bright and isolated, bleached dark while designing a brand new religion.

The day swells with promise with each morning breath when you place beside my neck gentle gestures of the lightest morse code.

I could reach out to touch this fingers spread open and watch the trails spiral upwards as your current runs away with parts of me already, it seems

something happens with each kiss. I should build my days with them, hide them inside pockets, breathe them in while I wrestle with a lonely bed.

some sentiment curves coyly cattail caress from the covers, says: I will always miss you. said sentiment dissolves along ceiling, sinks into skin.