Infinity.

You were Aurora-Borealis right,

and brighter than the northern lights;

nothing else in this world, 

came close to the beauty you possessed. 

Whether you were fully dressed, or naked as they come,

every single bead of sweat that found itself upon your neck,

was more beautiful than the rest; 

nothing else was similar. 

Even your breath was musical, 

you wrote hit songs when you exhaled;

I could watch you all day long, 

studying your every move. 

The way your chest rose and fell was reminiscent of the ocean’s tide,

it ebbed and flowed pulling me deeper inside our love. 

Hands softer than the whitest sands, 

no feet have ever known such magnificence.  

Those eyes that evoke such desperation within me,

mahogany brown and more profound than philosophy;

with each blink, I am transfixed, 

left guessing which emotion they will express next. 

Despite all this, these weathered hands will not stop wringing, 

from the grief, so heavy that it collapses my lungs.

From my head down to my toes, I am numb, 

arsenic is all I can taste on my tongue.

My throat is caked with regret, 

so sore but I cannot find the strength to hydrate it and get it wet.
The ringing in my ears won’t cease, as shrill as the eerie silence of an abandoned underground garage,

it pierces my ears with such violence I wish I was deaf. 

The tension between us is thicker than the fog in China, 

and it is just as polluted by our unvoiced suspicions. 

You entered my life with as much as intensity as a fighter jet 

that has just broken the sound barrier.

Yet my failure to eject you leaves me feeling inept.

Swept under the rug, like fur or dust, or ashes from your cigarettes.
Winded as though I’ve run a decathlon yet determined to take my next steps,
this haggard heart of mine goes round in circles, unsure of whether to turn right or left.