As for me, I’m left untouched; anticipation come undone, and dead as flags without their wind - my fingers melt into the sun.

I’d cry but cannot bear the thought that tears would be the first to know and set upon my skin like sharks who hunt the salt for blood in tow.

I suppose that’s why I have returned, to lean my love upon a crutch; no matter for why the lonely shore, I shall not leave untouched.

To cross the ocean is to ride atop life itself.

To cross the universe is to empty yourself of life;

only you remain.

a quiet moment, in our home playing my songs for her on piano discussing our future I decided to play a new one she cried at the crescendo told me she loved it but when I turned, ready to kneel, she was already gone apparently unaware of the stark proposal from the other room she began remarking on some unremarkable thing sheepishly, I pursued her box in hand "You forgot the best part", I said and the rest is future

I find me recognizable. Though far-flung from where I hung and sung for empty bars, swung swift through lanes and cars, now sat atop the highest floor surveying all that came before; encapsulated by a skin that bears the scars of seasons past - at last! At last! A chance to pass and elevate my heart above, re-educate my soul to love in ways of yesterday’s amazement; every day unfazed to face it. Live the life that we created, and fight like hell to never break it.

Let’s get lost somewhere in town, and scuttle down these cobbled streets to pubs discreet from public eyes, and magnetize to cosy nooks, among the books and wooden beams, where streams of consciousness combine like vines entwine and climb the spires, like fires desire and feast on flames; this hot exchange shall only cease when bodies crease and breaths release.