when love hits the screen door

When love hits the screen door
and splits through the holes
misting in their shattered state
through this
-thick as if it were still summer- air,
I feel it's emphatic spray
like pieces of a broken breeze
upon my loss-soaked face
cooling this frowning expression
with the warmth of each particle
pounding like heartbeats,
bursting like voice in chorus
onto these cheeks that have lacked their pinkish luster
since your breath has ceased to partner with mine...

And the wholeness of this shower
within the confines of a dry, Autumn season,
reminds me to keep the glass open
so your air just may...
make it's way...
inside to spray... again