annulment

It is just that there was this rain, falling so softly, there before the out of focus Christmas lights. The rain falling in such a hush, waiting breathless to confess. Then, as if created right there, a mosquito materializes, rising slowly towards the sky like it was my soul set loose. And something in the idea spoils slowly, under heat and ponder. Something in the moment boils away, giving off the steam the clock spilling over, trailing vapor into the next uncertain proof.

There in the doorway I sniff and cough, feeling the tilt of some virus in the lilt and tongue of each word. I spit into the fresh falling rain, as if to absolve my every stain. My thoughts so weary from their wanders, pacing the widths of distance, groping the intimacies of flesh. My mind so far past dreaming everything is brittle and real. I try to stretch an ache from my hip and spine, swallow out of idiot habit, curl a smile out of spite. The rain streaks in shades of gray, haloing the street lights, blazing away at the eaves of every house I see. The night sizzles softly along.

These nights are thick with you, you glisten on my every thought, you are drenched in lust and sacrament. Blood that turns to breath, breath smoking slowly into steam, rising and so very true. We dissolve over reach and time, our every intention some wave that breaks the surface, a needle scratching away the skin. We slowly become just the dopplered blur of an instance rippling through the measure of its ending. The wrecked train, the ruined photo, our natures so divided they might as well be the same.