Cigarettes

There's something about
The way he holds a
Cigarette -

Confident; pensive;
A natural veteran -
He wields cancer-sticks
Like bullets
Shoots himself in the lungs
Over and over again.

He uses them to ward off
Anxiety, and time.
But time is patient -
It sits idly by
Until it's ready to
Remind him:
Don't you dare try
To escape me - 
You can't.

But I don't think that he's
Trying to cheat time
With one cigarette, two cigarettes, or nine -
Rather, I think he's
Waiting for
Something or
Someone
To give him a reason
To stub it out.

Love is two together

Love is

You and

Me in

A white

Room on

Sunday with

White gauze

Curtains blowing

Inwards and

Two teacups

On the

Windowsill with

The handles

Touching and

Our song

Is the

Sound of

The sea.

He does cartwheels on the sand

He does cartwheels on the sand
Shifts the weight on to his hands
Kicks his legs up high
They brush the blue and open sky.