Someone pulled the Stars down last night
wrapped up the Moon in bubble-wrap,

Night itself was eclipsed
horizon to horizon.

The Silver Stars settled in your eyes;
the Moon in your hair;
and Night became ours.

That day was expunged from calendars;
Orion's Belt snapped;
Andromeda strained and parted,
pouring down smiles
into the fading Dark.

It's You.

That's How Much.

I have put away
Similes and Metaphors
these bow to
The Verisimilitudes.

No more smiles to invent
after yours.

All broken hearts mended now.

It's You.
That's How Much.

Time too
is suspended.


I have rolled up
my Heart-Break Carpet
and put it away.