We declared we’d kiss in each state, and managed two before we were crushed under the weight of the year when we were fools and kings. Though I knew the throne of your arms was a prison, I slept there just so I’d hear you sing. The hearts by their names, etched in the photos of departed lovers, those impressions remain, same as on the hearts from where they came. We test our new loves with old fire and the ashes of loveletters long joined to the ground. All I learned from you is it matters not which way your heart breaks, it’s just the sound that it makes. Sometimes so loud that you’d wonder how you ever heard fireworks in the first place. Were we singing songs and holding hands like it couldn’t be taken away?


Written January 2002


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