men write for failures and victories and false gods.
may it be said that there was method to my madness.
may it be said that i wrote this for love.

may this night be spoken of.
where we stepped away from home,
with our bare feet anchored in the morning dew and callused pavement,
with our heads in a night sky painted with stars, that in this canvas,
a meaning was provided in that which lacked.
may it be said that nothing but joy filled my black lungs.

that the sound of screeching tires filled that warm summer air,
that city lights and concrete blurred together into an ocean that we sailed upon,
and that we wore nothing but our laughter and smiles.

may it be said we laid between whispered cars and racing, thunderous "i love you's".
that the very fibers of our fragile being screamed for life in this world and the next.
may it be said, that on this god-given night, you and i.

never felt so alive.