stray fire

i stand here so painfully obvious in your courtship, however so polite, as boys will be on occasion. 

drinking from your lips' sweet consonants, the mouth of a drawn out life lorn passenger, relentlessly trying to manage the balance beam, shifting and straightening; making certain the air pockets stay within their limits. 

how is it, to work our lives away, and spend none of it creating anything of importance.

i lay my legs folded next to yours, pattern your angular posture, breathe your air and mimic all the skies temperament to simply be in alignment, and understand all of the woes of latter teenage angst, driven off by broken spirit and bloody noses.

my want is the only constant. our chanced detours are few and far, specific and grandiose. i make the most of us, and leave you to be your own, forgetful and unaware, but wholly self-conscious beauty.

i know i'm of no bother, the moments are welcomed and indulged, but never recounted. i stumble, too cautiously, my flawed life insistence, to falter alone by my own wronging. 

i am an appointment, a scheduled fragment, a number drawn, in the ocean of your convenience. 

pedestals aside, to wonder, if your eyes and anxieties ever will coincide with one willing boy king.