Discretionary Love

I have a map that only I understand. You won’t get there. The way hummingbirds gather by the balcony. Deliver messages of unsaid love. Make

This is it: your happily ever after, your beginning of the end of it, all happy. The line between Before and After. This is what

              Nothing was likely to happen so I spoke at great length about The joys of brushing one’s teeth

A blazing garment falls at your feet. You stand colorless, transparent, extinguished ambitions exposed. I didn’t want to see the naked parts of you subject

i kissed him and now a weighted blanket isn’t enough anymore i need his knee between my legs, anchoring us to right here, right now

The new generation doesn’t wed. Better to save what you can before Elon Musk amasses it. Now they call marriage “corpse buying” and dress in

Over the Seine, lovers clasp locks and throw the keys from bridges into the river. love locks forever rusted At Jones Beach, Field 9, rather

“He seems (uncursed with reason) not to know The depth or the duration of his woe.”                  

The clock coughs up another minute, but you’re just in the shower, I tell myself, even as mildew blooms like rot in your toothbrush cup.

I write love letters that go in drawers I sing ballads in the shower I give words of affirmations to empty rooms, empty seats, empty

When you wake with worry so intense you doubt your heart, and then rethink our love, then walk into my arms and share this stance–