A Toast to the Gods

Here's to

conversations in the middle of the night

stamped obsolete by more rational minds

but kept in secret

pockets and boxes only to be opened, coaxed out into the

dark car interior,

the blue light from the stereo casting shadows

across the words as they sit in the air between our mouths

the Shadows playing with the Light

on our faces

and we wince and smile because they will only play for so much longer,

until either sleep or dawn will call them their own.

and once Shadow and Light are summoned from

their child hood haunts in the curve of my lip

and their hide-and-seek games in the space between your eye,

and your nose,

we will return our thoughts to our pockets until 2 am comes again.

because daylight has no room for

years and the quiet keeping emotion carried therein.

oh the little lives and little deaths of those.

listening: Iron&Wine - Judgement.