POEM| Cranberry incensed at 2am

The unpatterned rhythm of floating words

and the clock ticking in stillness

norah jones imploring for escapades

while the candle burns

we let it burn amid

seventeen year old dreams and questions

caustic aspirations

slanting like the ceiling

midnight feasting on crushes and gossip

punctuated by stares at the red candle

as moments fast-forward to me

telling you

not to tell me the time.


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