sin titulo de venezia

ironically,
I thought of you
while passing the Bridge of Sighs;
it seemed only appropriate
to provide a structure
for my only continuous action.
it also worked
that my labored breaths
carried my eyes up with them
at just the right angle
to appreciate the nearly
full moon—waxing,
almost there, almost, yes,
and again,
highly apropos in your
absence.

the clouds were very high
and similarly thick—I'd still
swear, they were of
black velvet.
the moon rested in the softness
and its white glow made me so blue;
because of so many things, but,
This is only you here.

very much drawn in that angled
thought in the sky;
of You up There,
I managed to turn
and saw the clouds clear
completely in the space
behind me.
but I soon turned back
and didn't pay much attention to that
at all.