to carry these eyes,
too separate, different
from one another, yet
they still let me in this
silhouette of certainty,
beams of morning rise
invade sad-rose sheets
of torture, lonely leaves
getting paler and paler
each time we pause.
and we always repair,
loosened by impulse
to slide back in every
side slacking, asking,
begging, into always
breaking ourselves.
you let me let you,
'til we let us let go.
28 november 2022