I cast shadows and blame the trees

I can't help

but to scrutinize

the way you cool hot food,

only after

it’s in your mouth.

I don’t use the word love

unless it’s an active verb;

either way it can change

the rhythm of my blood.

The sun tells fables about the moon.

Mornings are addicting

and the day is prozac

in the form of chaos.

Nights are scratches

we discover

after they’re healed;

a map of long-forgotten mistakes.

I’m an overflowing ashtray and

you’re in a perpetual state of quitting.

I hang out between people’s thoughts.

I defeat those I love with soft words.

Love is like hearing a friend

say he saw a shooting star

for the very first time.

I used to always miss it, catching

a glimpse

the second it fades.