on good terms with the lower end
of the spectrum the volatile beauty
enters the room so cool from the ac
that the air is crisp like a whip across
sweat drenched foreheads and may
be the month i end it all and flip my
panic switch off and may be the month
we kick it and listen to tunes and maybe
a few months pass and my life has
been never better, certainly it must be you

and out in the yard the spectacles tinted
so casual, this bright bright sun and warm
july, our month together where we just sit
by your pool on hot days and then i'd visit
you after work just outside your backdoor
in the drizzling rain, 'shh quiet' your parents
asleep you said and i kissed you there slowly
tiptoeing away wanting to stay but subliminal
intimacy is key.

and september is defined by me moving forward
i open my heart further, and my mind follows
closely observing technique and fervor i re-enter
my studies as do you, a state away but every
night i dream and feel closer and closer, and
we'll blink and be together and blink again and
back to the daily grind, but alas i have never felt
something so solid, so trusting.

i'll light one up and kick back with a nice bottle
of some jank tonic i don't even like and we'll
talk and joke and tell the stories of times long before
and plan ahead and be so consumed with life
that we may very well never die.

and as i hold you close, i'll whisper goodnight
this one is for you.