shy, courage, et tu

Us, cloaked beneath the digital smokescreen

ensconcing in the other

treading in our most fralid thoughts—

the inquisitor and the scholar

before slipping back on a lemon tart

giggling softly in the dark

A trip with you wherever we go

feels like coming home



Me, having been bound

to your orbit

If I stop running around

would I fall in?

Would you want our collision? Or

would you say

you have enough craters



You, an intrepid kind of blue

in all your past-hoods

having been left more septarium

than a September?



What if both parties are waiting

for the other?

A game of chicken with no winners

just chickens?

How long can a flame sparkle

if no one leaps in it?



Driftward souls grasping the air

the gods sigh understandingly

praying that you’ll hold me tighter as I

unfurl into your hand, as you

breathe your quietest whisper

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