the slow melancholia of twilight

We can no longer create each other

in the likeness of ourselves. But

we still can love who we’ve dreamed

warm under covers,

in the slow melancholia of twilight.

Though separate, still a part

painting one another’s shadow —

an impression all our own.

untitled (XO)

Something in us changed

I’m not sure when, but

it happened in an instant

and lasted a lifetime.

It took losing

everything,

to come to the conclusion

that I am an illusion

and we’ve always had

— from the beginning —

everything

to gain.