if everyday were monday,
the one petal of the week
where our arms lace
we'd never see tuesday mornings
when the trash truck sounds
like khaleesi's dragons
looking through this window
trying to ask a question without words,
monday has turned into night
and we may only be two ships
dodging harbors
I am resigned-
heaven's last name is hell
the flower of our time
has been built by
stems of before-we-met
leaves of leaving
yet the color of our kiss
is where you and I blend,
and has grown
in the brief season
of a trend.
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