and the moments quivered.
they quivered in what I wanted them to be.
abotu to melt away.

like hot paint.
or smoldering wax.

such a delicious. burn.


they quivered showing me how tastefully fragile they were.
like lenses focusing on the one thing that I wanted to see.

like strangers toppling ice cream cones over the chance to see an eclipse of the soul.
like knowing someone you've never met. and convincing one single scar that its worth it all.


the moments quivered. like air on a hot day.
like an entire city seen through smoke.


and.
i confess.

to love.

that shivering of my vision.
that knowledge that it will all run out in sparks when I die.
that the point where I meet with the stubbornness of the ocean.

becomes these fearful moments. boldly shaking. in a perfect. doubtability.