i’ve been having fun with the moon
replacing time with this cubist mess
called asymmetrical love,
that shape no one teaches us about
in public schools, graveyards, or internet cafes,

and she (you were)
was laughing with me
like she meant to slightly blush at times
filming a scene no one but me
was going to bother to
borrow
for short coffee & gossip breaks

“moon shaped cookies are sweet too,” i used to argue
though premonitions were twisting like worms in my polluted bed

i knew

i was going to find

paper wrapped moons and unnoticed kisses hidden underneath the floor

on Christmas day


i’m afraid you had gone slightly deaf when i requested
that the cubes remain there, almost flirting with symmetry,

i so feared the mistletoe would predict
clouded new moon on New Year’s Eve

but then again, what kind of life have i provided?