After the Fireworks
Somehow a certain star slipped
through the fingers of the night,
a particle of brightness fell,
a fleck of waning, pale light.
I saw it disappear forever,
vanishing in it’s descent,
a tiny tear in dark fabric,
a summer night, forever rent.
Something rumbled restless
thrashing through the wood,
and your heat entirely,
wound itself around my blood.
You were warm and forever:
A damp panther, a breathing dream.
A mouth that melted on my skin,
in a slender, writhing stream.
Starlight softened your features.
Your face was perfect, aglow.
Your shadowed eyes so endless.
Your mouth a darkened blur below.
Sprawled by the side of the road,
tossed in the star spangled grass.
We were victims of a happy accident,
two hopes that had come to pass.
Two lights of an approaching car
made a halo of your tousled hair,
you were bathed in oncoming bright.
Part of me wanted to die right there.
To die with the possibility of you,
with the taste of you inside me.
This was a night outside of time,
we are something that was never meant to be.
I don’t want the stars to fall.
I don’t want summer to be through.
The sky can not hold the stars,
the way I can not hold you.