Hope springs from hearts
into court
but the wind, as
cleaving creates distance

ripening can not be shortened,
no more than the distance between
your smile and my
laugh.

But that is enough
electricity of that sort
sparks fires,
so why hurry

the source of love is life, itself.

To search for
something
more is blind,
impatience
that stalks us,
fucks us,
and leaves us,
all the while, claiming love

Oh how he comes so easily,
but life, she is
more than
a vessel for his growth.

another co-write with jo