Arcadia

80

The lover who is a poem

‌I am running out of words and I am running out of love, but he is a poem. He has eyes set in hollows probably from staying up late nights, his lips are brown from smoking too many cigarettes but his voice is soft and he knows how to talk he talks like talking is an art, how does he even do that? He likes folk songs and his hands are rough but warm. He is from up north and he misses his home, he sends me a poem written in his hand, his handwriting is beautiful, everything about him is beautiful, the poem is about a firebird and about a lover who could be me who could not be me, I don't care I love him.