'Starcrossed'

It's like getting caught outside in the heavy rain without an umbrella,
saying I love you over and over again,
over a line that's constantly breaking with crackling and silence.
Everything that has happened
weighs like perforations, exit wounds.
Like how electricity passes through silver,
or a break-in is conducted.
What's left is a brand made on a bruised heart
which develops into the shade of burnt paper days later.
And stays, for the rest of our lives.

I will keep half-burned albums,
and remember as I pick from the ash;
pieces, always, always coming away in my hands:
how you were playfully arching away from me;
your lips pursed,
my clothes still damp from the rain---

How we tried to make each other whole.

( _")