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I can't take
these bruises you afflict
in that unintentional way
that makes me ask you to stay
a little longer,
love a little harder
before time runs out.
Because it will (Won't it?).

You take me in,
I pull you out--
this cycle has yet
to be figured out.
How can I
How can you
How can we
make this last?

I can't put you out of my mind.
I can't speak the words that describe
the way my heart beats,
my stomach turns,
my hands shake,
my eyes burn--
so your face won't be interrupted with shades of black.
How could I ever put you in the past?