7:23 a.m.
Since September, every 7:23 a.m. has been the same. First, the dull sound of an engine, then the headlights piercing the dark. The bus slows, then stops. The doors open in front of me
...
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She,
a wayward rock comes flying
through the vault of heaven crashing
into you.
You are struck,
captivated by the impact,
and before you can even flicker
a piece of you
is gone.
Her,
love is an arrant thief
in the night forever,
in your orbit forever,
summoning your waves forever,
yours.
a wayward rock comes flying
through the vault of heaven crashing
into you.
You are struck,
captivated by the impact,
and before you can even flicker
a piece of you
is gone.
Her,
love is an arrant thief
in the night forever,
in your orbit forever,
summoning your waves forever,
yours.