We don’t exactly finish each other’s sentences. But when we rose up to meet that two-lane Wisconsin road, we traded verses from CCM songs. Point

I love you. In the hushed half light, as darkness bows in deference to day,  I hear the words for the first time.   Voiced

Your hands falter in the air. Dangling like stuffed animals on a child’s mobile, they are tools the epitome of perfect if your aim is

Before you moved away With promises we would See each other again I imagined the men  Behind the Free posts On Facebook Marketplace As newly-divorced

The scent of your word tempts me to turn away from need, in ways that lure scavengers to scarcity. Those enclosed conduct their symphony, noting

There are days I think of Adam’s heart exploding, as my heart exploding like a fluted glass shattering into a billion shards inside of me.

I have a map that only I understand. You won’t get there. The way hummingbirds gather by the balcony. Deliver messages of unsaid love. Make

This is it: your happily ever after, your beginning of the end of it, all happy. The line between Before and After. This is what

              Nothing was likely to happen so I spoke at great length about The joys of brushing one’s teeth

A blazing garment falls at your feet. You stand colorless, transparent, extinguished ambitions exposed. I didn’t want to see the naked parts of you subject

i kissed him and now a weighted blanket isn’t enough anymore i need his knee between my legs, anchoring us to right here, right now

The new generation doesn’t wed. Better to save what you can before Elon Musk amasses it. Now they call marriage “corpse buying” and dress in

Over the Seine, lovers clasp locks and throw the keys from bridges into the river. love locks forever rusted At Jones Beach, Field 9, rather

“He seems (uncursed with reason) not to know The depth or the duration of his woe.”                  

The clock coughs up another minute, but you’re just in the shower, I tell myself, even as mildew blooms like rot in your toothbrush cup.