'late summer 2013'

the white light. the separation of space. the canyons of down comforter and exposed skin. the tumbling laughter, the hissing water, the hours of wasted time. he was tracing shapes, spans of her flesh, drinking alone in the morning. the teeth of expectation, side step of obligation, the bar with all her friends. their quiet doubt, her vocal disappointment, the stretch and gasp of her fulfillment. her strange blue bathroom tiles, him reading marquez, her dreaming of his voice filling her house. tequila shots, weekend plots, and the maze of his silent heart- the walls translucent and carved with words. one hundred and thirty seven miles, those iron wrought chairs on the front lawn, his parade of old lovers, and the wounds he didnt watch himself make. mumford and sons in her speakers, questions she wouldnt ask him, the look on his face as she told of former fists. the song of trembling pianos, the orange streetlight blur, waking to a room strewn with the casualties of their clothes. whispers in the sand, gleam on the tiles, scent of bourbon on the winds of the tide. clothes drying on railing, beach stranded parasols, her wet hair hanging down her bare back. he is assailed by the pillows, she is putting on earrings someone else gave her, she is standing naked on the oceanview porch. she is thinking of cities, tracing out teeth marks, he knows it is their last sunset. red residue light, the howl of pianos, the raging of the brass, the symphony kungfu necktie. their procession of rocks glasses, him working the pool table, her drinking him through the bars haze. he is memorizing her constellations, of laughs and nervous ticks, of freckles and unsaid confessions. she is writing their name on hidden kitchen paper napkins, hes outside in the dusk. theres a kiss and a hand at the back, a poem written on the mirror, theres the lingering scent of his absence. he has her stranded on battered sheets, he has her laughing in the morning lull, he has her in his arms.
he has her in his arms.
he has her.  in his arms.

 he loved her
too late did he realize,
too late did she recall her heart.