Scribbles from a moment of feeling very small.

Crescent moon- width,
That is as much as the door was opened.
Yet in that two inches, that sliver,
I beheld that wonderful thing
That is You.
Those blue eyes just begging me to swim,
despite the risk of drowning;
And those red lips held slightly apart,
As if in shock or maybe it was

Maybe you couldn’t see me too because
Maybe it was too dark because,
Baby, you exuded light-
(at least to I)
Brighter than a faint crescent moon,
More like a full sun on those cloudless days
Beating down on bare skin
In a bare field
Somewhere in the Midwest,
You know those days I’m talking about?
When the thermometer says 99
But the heat- index is really 105?

And those few seconds felt suspended
In time, like maybe five hours passed.
Then Time ticks my temporal lobe and
Reminds me of my place in your shadow,
The darkness you don’t quite touch anymore
Because I am behind, fleeting past.

I am a shadow:
Not a body-
A frame but
No form
Or content
(like this poem).
Just a shadow:
No kisses
Or giggles
Or I love you’s,
Just ghost touches
And the things
Are made of.

I’ve got those black spots in my vision
When I drive away now.
I think they bleed out through a couple
Of salty drops leaking from the corner
Of my eyes. Sometimes I feel like I’m
Growing but a lot of the time I feel a
Shrinking sensation, engulfed by you
By me, by we, and by what I am not.
You know what I’m talking about?
When you look at the sun for too long
And it obstructs your vision with those
Black spots and you remember that
This is what makes you cry from
Too much exposure, too much pain,
Too much light after too much dark;
And closing your eyes doesn’t
Make the pain go away, because the
Black spots are there too somehow?

Sometimes something you love hurts you.
Sometimes you have to love something
From a distance with downcast eyes,
For a time, even if the sight is the
Sliver of a crescent moon.


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