best of intentions so we make these plans,
you’ll see, he says,
and we will walk slowly at first
as if this pace could
confuse the wind through the trees
or leave us a moment
for moss carpet dreams.
there are times when I know that you are
the perfect sort of
mistake to make when my
breath is gone and my
head is tired from spinning
or the excessive release of adrenaline.
and maybe you will
only temporarily inhibit
the loss of feeling that swallows my last thought
before it finds an
out but - that will do if we forget
all sensible belief
and moral constitution.
you keep digging
through where we’ve been
for some explanation
and all I want is
your hands to find several
reasons to forget
these indiscretions
and
forgive me for failing
to see past tonight.
he was dark hair
and darker eyes with
hands full of want
and need and an
unsettling urgency
that I won’t shake for
days after he is gone.