these are the tiny currents
of how you make me feel.
they fritter like light
from an agape console
and when they close us in,
that light slowly resigns
to its cage
like how we first nestled into
each other's arms.
this is the moon that remembers
your silence
and these are my eyes that
stare at the moon to
ruin it into all the noises
the world could ever bayonet
through cities tender with sleep.
and this is the soul
that will recall everything
and forget, flinching from
the inward-breaking, pale bodied
concrete are the many lives
that we break to have little,
hummingbird knowledge
that we are alive.