the sum of your parts

tonight,
the moon nestles upon the leaves,
resting lightly on the tops of trees;
your tiny billows of breath
rise into the darkness
of winter's wheezing death ...

tonight,
the pencil-marked page
fills into your wrinkles of age;
like scratches of time past,
you write not with words
but with tears of glass ...

tonight,
lust echoes off of flesh,
as limbs quiver and collapse to rest;
a new scent forms in the dark,
when bodies become greater
than the sum of their parts ...

tonight,
you don't need to rush
for you've got the time;
the night
ain't lingering for love,
it's here for Valentines.