I yearn for the ocean over me
Rid the insecurities, the flaws
The great burden roaring
Awoken from a great slumber
Clone of despair in my vision
Blue eyes, blue eyes, blue eyes
Death appears lovely this time of year
Why won’t you take me
Distance
9:22 A.M.
I kissed you goodbye,
again, again,
and you did not stir
but for your lips knowing
to mimic mine.
Your lips, your nose, your cheek,
and not a flutter of your breath,
only even, slow, strong.
•
At once, maybe,
in youth, such stillness
would have troubled me;
you lie on your back,
blankets tucked under your chin,
vulnerable and confident,
while I close the door and leave
for work.
— Chris Kessler






