the edge bites down. loud bridges over quiet waters.
the dark stutters. a triumph of skin and bone. too many stories. not enough heroes.
time's grace is fickle. steep staircases that end in sober. long shadows spilling into the fading sun.
daylight comes and goes. the cold remains.
we wear each other. loose margins negotiate touch. intimacy presses down hard. but the creases fade.
the slope eases into to focus. we're attached. by the inclined plane. by the axis. and its helical wrap.
the gears of the ache. turning. grinding down the shame. until only the flesh is free. and it runs wild. like an animal uncaged.
the heavy math of proximity. counting too hastily. the accumulating deficits of the heart. the diminishing wealth of the hope.