Last 3 letters of the spring

The silence? It’s been quiet, and the truth? It’s been coming, and the light? It’s a warning, and the life forgiven? It’s been reaching, and the nights? Nights are tender, and love? Love is grieving, and the loss? Loss is nothing if there isn’t hope, no meaning, clueless anguish of them, dreamers, playing cowards, kissing faces greener-greaner, spelling cheeky tendons, and the fingers, getting closer,

do not go

do not surrender, tell me more, and the softness? It’s been muffled, and the truth? It’s been silenced; it’s a message: you’ve been summoned, and my feet counting the blues, and the fingers cutting paper, and my love, my love is steep; all the way, down to those circles

getting closer, I’ll surrender

do not look behind her eyes, days are counted, catch a glimpse of the youthful sparrow— vulgar stare of hope, loss is nothing if there isn’t

clueless sorrow: bones and joints and feet, oakmoss heavy, manly figure greener-greener, deeper, my breath weakened…could you please? all the way towards those circles

She’s been summoned, bird psychotic deadly grasping to its fall: wasteful habit

It’s worth nothing and there wasn’t any meaning

time has stopped