I watch my contentment, painted on the cheek of sunset
Contemplating the last of his shadow imprint as it
Chases bird choruses westward, asking for wind
That only briefly touches his sonorous embrace.
I love the silence flung from his city shoulders
Crowning the space where tepid conversations
Traced the patterns of my mouth,
Mouth stained with the hum of red
And ardently falling on the applause of his eye.
Life is like poetry; loving isn’t about capturing the muse.
Some words, are so unnecessary.