Heat.

Constellations of frozen glances
I so lovingly photographed and watched 
Fade through the icy glass of photo frames. 
A blazing pattern of fire
Streaking across the unblinking eyes on my wall.

Scorch marks, blackened over time.

I miss the heat from the stove, 
On the nights of adventures in deck chairs,
Watching, or not, movies in blankets of ourselves.
Seeing you receive slopping kisses from man’s best friend,
You were; you are mine. 

gifts

I wear you on my wrist,

The stretched out elastic shells

as soothing as the gleaming silver.

On my ears, the crooked aquamarine a

Reminder I won’t straighten.

You nibble at my ears from miles away.

I wait for the bite, the bruise,

the lingering smell of you on me,

the scent of you and me.

Shrouded in intoxicating idealism,

A spiked environment of numbing hope.