share the snowfall
from a streetlight with you
shoulders dusted with shine
dandelions
became sunflowers
heads bowed
by the weight
of their manes
I don’t think about the thorns
I think about the blackberries
of your love
how they reveal the labyrinths
of my fingerprints
that touches the dark
trying to find your face
I won’t speak to you again
I will still sing to you
songs white as whispers
same frequency as ghosts
you are the stained light
staining the stone
the church ceiling
crumbled into cabbage whites
shadows shattered
into black butterflies
my heart
more cave and cavity now
waiting for the collapse
the horizon howled
snow swept the streets
my sight sand-blasted
I see deserts
stared at by the sun
for too long
oceans of slow glass
a sea of seals
diving into each other’s
molten bodies
the poplars are still
silver shivers inside
ripples repeating themselves
within the pillars
of their trunks
lamps wore away
at the dark
scarred skin
doesn’t collapse
when carved
rings made from rainfall
a cobweb of strings
poured from the cross
that control our limbs
the hinges of your heart
sprinkles rust like pollen
as the dark wind of your blood
squeezes through its doors
left ajar