i.
My lover is sick
and it has finally sunk in
that we may be writing a sonnet
and not a tome
There may be less words
in our piece,
but I am lockjaw determined
that every single one
will be used to turn the world
into the reader
of a poem about
what it means to truly love
ii.
Why is it that the only time
I feel God’s presence
is when he’s blowing
the future I had planned
straight out of my hands
with the hot, sour breath
of a drunk trying to convince me
to give him his car keys
so he can drive himself home?
But you-
you I feel all the time.
iii.
When I get up in the middle of the night
you turn the flashlight of your cellphone on
so I don’t stub my toes on the bed
When I think of you, this is what
I always come back to rest on
After all, what is love
but
constantly removing
little bits of the darkness
that surrounds us
so that we can always see
our way back to the safety
of one another’s arms?
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