if the night sky was shy
and the moon spoke in jive
then the sun would taste like lavender
sprinkled across the mantle
of your eye.
you see, love is just a calendar
with all the dates crossed out
an empty shopping bag
on the day before christmess.
there is nothing less handsome
than a billboard in july,
there is nothing more shocking
than heroes who won’t cry.
emotions are like really tiny pebbles
that get tossed and turned, on a beach
beyond our ken. we are left
wondering when
it will be okay to die.
