nothing’s real
until the first drop of your sun
speckles it, nothing’s
until the first drop of your sun
speckles it, nothing’s
mine anymore; I’ve
held my forevers in the
clasp of your hand, I’ve
seen anthems rise in
tendrils of gold from your eyes
holding mine; and yes,
I couldn’t tell those
racing streets from my heartbeats
back there or would ever
know if it was love
or just an inkling of it
that I’d snuffed out
even before it sparked
back to oils & acrylics