Archive for August, 2017

There’s a certain shade

of teenage love

unlike any other

that time has to offer.

A passing flush

parades across the chest;

a formidable force

under the breast.

Heaving; heavy with

the weight of the First,

a confident uncertainty

of its own making

Sinking or Floating or Breaking

it becomes made.

A breathless vision;

here, well-hidden

in a canvas marred with age –

where vibrancy inevitably

has dried up like old paint

and succumbed slowly, under

silent fade.

Picture the seasoned lover

until the Last,

now warms with a pallet

of a predictable ensemble;

where a once-familiar hue

emerges as new.

Ah, the First –

a memory described

head-first deep-dive

into complete saturation,

summoned only in the tense

where once conquered all makings

now, washed from existence.