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am i wrong for loving the early darkness of a day?

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Am I wrong for loving the early darkness of a day?

Sky stained with azure, crimson, purple

The grass and exhaust of Union Square

This cup of coffee in my hands remains unsipped…

i like the smell.

Mouth on shoulder blades

Tonguing syrup of time

Bitter taste of perfume on her neck

Eyes dilate… sighs decontaminate

the Silence

The measured choreography of that moment

Familiar body parts, distinctive smell. She’s not

the same.

Symphonies in her rapid pulses

And intakes of atmosphere

Parents due back any minute but take your time

The city outside the glass panes slows as her hands cup

His face and the rumbling of trains matches his


Dabbing lips dapple

And flesh mechanics rust.


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