there is a gentle pulse on the other side of forever
when Mother Nature’s whisper grows hoarse
and our two hands hang limply in the space between us
leaden feathers dragging on the corners of fickle consciousness,
the laughter drying,
morphine for the pre-dead

I still remember the way your skin felt on mine
cool like lemongrass

every single variable scrambled fearfully until my x met your y
I stole those dreary stars and drowned them in molasses
so yours skies could always be clear

don’t tell me you don’t love me

your arm, bruised against your chest, wrapped in gauze
mine tied behind my back
and still I found
a way to heal you
particles froze in our wake, stuffed themselves into our throats like question marks
but we didn’t burn

don’t tell me you don’t believe me

when we lose the war with gravity
our bones decaying, preparing us for the River of Acheron
I’ll remember your cupid’s bow on my forehead, your square jaw cracked in half
even as your good memory flickers under the pressure
and I’m extinguished like the last flame of starlight

I’ll tell our grandchildren about your glory
that in every elusive dimension
your heart still beat for me and mine for you
no matter the infinite forces pulling us apart
condemning each sour breath
—we could’ve been two points on a nonsensical graph
a hiccup in the gap of time                                                                                                                                         a scream echoed abstractly in two discordant universes—
and still we would have made our way together

don’t tell me we weren’t inevitable