how sparse
these fleeting seasons
wherein our silence lies
as dungeons black
was there the martyr fell
confessing
to the almost
every time before
when dreams awoke
with stories of the veil

between the will
for one more day –
the rhythm of our years
is weighted by another
passed in vain
sins denied their pardon
keep me up at night
reason raps
the rusted window pane

wishes
I’ve decided
are rarely worth the risk
cast upon a starless
consequence
a boy I knew
I said I loved –
love him still sometimes
for moments of forever
nothing else makes sense

. . .