c


i awoke early this morning
to contradict the notion
that i must be loved
by woman alone,

fixated by
the sun as it slid
between sky and earth
like they were oil and water.

today i am the color grey
in the midst of these
vivid palettes

and tones i’ve yet
to bestow with any name for 
i am neither as strange nor

beautiful as their haunting
anonymity which speaks
for itself.

what have i to live for if
my cliched god is just a light bulb
screwed into the stars

smoking cuban
cigars

to pronounce
its undisputed
reign

o’er the perpetual
motion
of memory;

for what have i to live
if not for
the fact that

i hold no heaven
more dear to my heart
than this feeling

of being loved
by the one and only
light that never

creates
the moment
without me




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