summer noons: 

melting in the late cuprum sun,

crushed under the beating constraints of time. 

we move with haste,

dancing with an unrefined fervour that comes with being young and being rushed.

I twirl my hands around the strands of july grass beds, 

feeling your skin,

and feeling the soil under my fingernails.

as I lay with my head against your chest,

I wonder if your youth will remain with me

***

memories are encapsulated pills of bitter nostalgia