it is five forty five pm sol has set the sky on fire again burning the orange bright I hope they make your cheekbones rise like the ember through which you are dancing right now in my room these four corners and circles of succulents speakers stones and smoke have turned this settling of bones seance

 

 

It is 2:45 a.m. the house is silent and beyond my door my room is tossed in the white light that is moon through a cracked window atop an eerie street In a sentimental mood, I can see the stars shine through my room Ive sworn this smoke curls in on itself like bad news curses and cursive and rolls off the tongue just as smooth you must have been the first to calligraphy script me loved in a living room with a skylight above and under a blanket faintly smelling of the cigarettes Id never seen you smoke, song faintly sounding like Fitzgerald lull-a-bye all of the giants in my blood have names that lull to you, like Luna/Love. Lelia/Lilian youve left us me fake charade of content lonely longing to make out names and ghosts in incense smoke.