fill me
with moments
I have no regard
for the strength of a diamond –
an untested vow

of urgencies pushed
in the dead heat of night
where soft lies
the sigh
of surrender
tis I

speak not of seasons
where heartache was made
or fields sewn by ash
and dismay
spare me to sleep
for the sake of desire
the promise of rest
in your
arms

shush
there’s no need
to complain
of the time
tis nothing worth wasting
by name

this everafter
is all I can give
speak not of morning
til then

. . .