I realized that it was always in late afternoons

when the setting sun glowed an orange-pink

that I met myself worshiping at the stone ruins

for the peace and earth always made me think

In a unsettling haze of both browns and grey- greens

he rested in slippers and blanket in the heart of my mind

we had no need for eyes tightly closed within this dream

for even in the dark of night this love was so easy to find

I was sure that if I loved him even a little bit more

that the edges of mine very own heart might burst

and the remembrance of even the smallest of things-

his smile, his eyes, his chest- made it worse

On nights like this I wanted to be buried with him

deep beneath soft blankets and the whitest of snows

cloud filled skies a November grey above us

our warm love being made down below

God, I love him without reason,

passion’s slave as Dostoevsky once said,

but this love lasts beyond late afternoon sunsets,

like the ones in the great books that I’ve read