Love? Love's a day,
creeping timelessly in its beginnings
and heartbreakingly abrupt in its
ends.
We have a day.
One day left for our spins, and our detonations,
to marry and trail off
into the kind of smoke you dreamed of
when you were a wide-eyed child.

That's how this works;
the world and its sullen shadows,
ours to brighten for the
afternoon.
So our spirits walk, our passions run,
screaming with laughter into the dying sparks
of midnight skies.

Yes, we'll expire;
but we've caught the day early;
I'll spin the clock around and hope sunset
won't tempt you elsewhere.

So no, I won't tell you 'forever.'
I'll show you 'now.'