Despite our dealings in the dark,

with the dark

about the dark and its wiry fingertips,

wired into the night; into it’s wandering circuit,

into incandescence,

My teeth clinched to the point of breathing, breaking,

Guarded , but disintegrating but still managing to hang onto my gums,

chattering just above my waiting lips before they inevitably recoil and bite down,

like a guillotine; a leaning fence

Not a kiss,

and not much of a falling star, either.