Under the skylight, in the fading light, light, waitlessness sucked me up.

Wishing I didn't feel so heavy and covered in luck.

Eyes heavy as suitcases are full, but my pockets are empty.

Torn sporadic, staccato motion, my veins pumping out.

Like the ocean, the memory is so softly packaged,

bleemed down and listened to the faint heartbeat,

can smell your soul aching and your cologne fading.

My stomach flips, butterflies eclipse.

It is a thing, it is a funny thing to feel your stomach right into your

sleep.

Tears met, sounds of clinking glasses as the sun sets.

Home, triangle roof, comfortable booth,

thumps, fung shwee oozes the smell of vermouth.

Trying not to idolize too much, swimming in your pool, but not putting you on a pedestal.

Petty, ready, steady, go.

To be recognized for one's true self,

pass the facade and all that marmalade sugar covered business that can be distracting business.

Pass the cars, seeing up, and over and through all of the stars.

I've sipped from your cup, but now I'm stuck and I don't know when to give up.

Mud, sweat, teeth, tears, goose bumps rippled across my skin,

felt like nothing else mattered, and didn't know where to begin.

He bled, he fled, and he stopped.

...