August

There is an empty house
In the middle of nowhere
The only place we can belong.

There is a summer we never had
And another chance to be who
We are truly meant to be.

There is a warm night of silence
While the walls of the room
Witness the revival of beauty.

There is the faint light from
A candle illuminating our
Two shadows becoming one.

There is a silent devotion reserved
For our bodies as they speak the words
We can never say out loud to each other.

There is a sonnet on my lips
You read with yours and drink
The words that go unspoken.

There is a meadow of fireflies
Where nature smiles upon
The reunion of our souls.

There is a consistent aching
Infecting my lungs from breathing
in the air of your absence.

There is a certainty our love
Will always exist at least
In the paradox of oblivion.

There is the August we never had
And ten thousand years lived
Together in only these few nights.

There is an empty house
In the middle of nowhere
Waiting for us in August.