Nightfall Comes So Early

Nightfall comes so early, its fingertips resting against your forehead. Nightfall comes so early, to leave me crouched in darkness. And nightfall is your hair, dark and all-encompassing, it surrounds you -- fights you in the morning, smothers you at night. And nightfall is the sea and is part of the sea. It is both the force of the waves that crash against craggy ocean peaks, and the piece of garbage, discarded candy wrapper, floating on the crest of a wave. Both are searching for the shrine of land -- the altar off in the distance. And nightfall is your name, the letters scrawled on our bed sheets and pillow cases. I sleep next to that dark ink, wear it unknowingly in the seams of my clothes, and smell it wafting from the night table.