I sat beside his
warm, orange-tinted silence
and a million years’ negativity
began their osmosis into
the void from which
he and I were protected

and he made me clouds
to walk on
manufactured shooting stars
and dared me to dream again

he composed me
still-life melodies and
made me a life-sized sculpture
of a sunset
and, dancing to the tune
of a painted glass mosaic
he and I papered the walls
with laughter and conversation

he opened my eyes
to so much beauty
it couldn’t be framed
or contained in a page

when he kissed me