caesura

how strange

that to make my night

you enter it

and share it with me,

but exit

leaving the rest of it for me

to miss you.

 

“always leave ‘em wanting more,”

but this is no

tease or manipulation,

this is your gift to me.

solitude.

 

you carve a wake through my night

 

space is required.

air and light on stems and leaves,

oxygen for fires to breath,

whitespace for typeface,

silence for music

 

in a caesura

we wait for the song to play on