I want to recreate you
like a beauty to be consumed.
I want to break you down like a theorem
and hold the smaller pieces of your burning truth
in my hands like the debris of a meteorite,
watch the passage of light-years
reenacted along their edges
as they catch the sun.
I want to cheat on your nights
and write confessions in places
that time hardly ever touches,
teach your solemn dusk to bend around
the patient wait that bears the lyrics
to what makes the hours spent with you so pure.
I want to cover you with gazes,
from adoring eyes that refuse to be tired,
that open to another world when I go to sleep,
that see the future as a love song
playing at starboard in an ocean liner
that defines the impeccably white horizon.
Image from “Get Lit, Decorate for the Holidays,
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