The combing of history and escapades
to see if any ounce of truth exists
in the fantasies I’ve created in my mind.
Your memory still persists.
I’ve no bag of tricks for the season
to see us through this winter burn.
Darling, they reference cuffing for a reason,
but into summer singleness we’ll return.
I have this handmade poem
that I dipped in ink and cut with thought.
It’s better than a pair of denim,
or anything that might be store-bought.
So, cheers to you in midnight flashes.
For, dreams of you still proceed.
May your prayers be light and jolly,
while my heart continues to bleed.