this ache

The light is always leaving, but it’s me that does the losing. The golden west of sunsets and recused loves, filling the frame with shade and silhouettes. Ruthless tomorrows and the drag along past, this moment of lore and smoke, a heart drawn around a name. The circle set and blessed, the unknown fear now the known pain. Every day a new incline, each day a climb. This ache of breath and bone. The weight of the name the one thing only you know.

Moth lit porch and the mouthful moon. The shattered firmament a dull dozing gray shimmering with the light that gets loose. The way the frame fits when you aim your intent. The way the night goes, a few useless moments at a time. Life the press of breath against my backbone, the hitch in my shoulder a mark through my purpose. The backlit empty, the depth of my obstruction. This bright sediment, the instrument untuned, a useless choreography.

I sit out here because the indoors are broken. The rooms are hard in their grubby geometries. The unsaid phrases and the letters left unsent. Slowly smoke curls towards the tin roof. The soft biopic of pop music shuffling through the fading frame. Hands lost deep in the reaching, an ache forever unresolved. A kiss went missing, and the whole world followed. A few pictures bereft of anecdote.