“Anytime” (Inspired by Brian McKnight)

A mini-apocalypse, my fair love: the pillow—so cold, so cruel.

And I can’t appeal destiny: she mourns. What of our lives—a

Flipper in the wind? My mind—so congested: the grief—

A pearl; and destiny—so seductive: she lingers the fields. Our

Passion, soap and suds: our breath, fruits and sweets. We died—

Our glory—forevermore. Such impression—to long—a ghost,

Something so escapable. Plus the music—dwells the earth,

Afraid to fall asleep. Indeed, forever was so brief—akin to

Brevity. And she cries, a prophet’s soul; and she wails, an

Angel’s death. But such sorrow, a silent phone; and such

Measure, a dying grain. I wonder, my love, a vision in the dark.

The tears—so cold: the years—so cruel. Reach the length, our

Phantom love—a ghostly dream. Something‘s quenched—a

Passion old; and something yearns—a flickering flame.