honey, you cannot wrestle a dove

elbows to knees
the dead branches of the humming bird birch
receding descending falling into sleep
a sinking stone and one fast wing
elbows to knees, we try again
in an attempt to focus on the night sky
my hand fell into yours
and there was a landslide
with such close investigation we are bound to find nothing
the turning in my stomach
the limp hand on my pillow
and gushes of air passing through your lips
what am i to make of this?
some truth in friendship, some understanding
buried beneath but i cannot make out
a single word of your eyes
I let him sleep, I'll let him rest
the untouched, the unknown, the unavailable
scheme of things that permeates
my interaction
hands will fumble and words fall into each other
the scout i sent out has come back empty handed
and i am disappointed
but the train will keep passing
and cups of water will be filled
and this hangover will end
but soon another will follow.
sometimes the black is blue.