There is something
about your
fleeting fingertips
and the way
your mouth curls
resembling
how i
curl myself around
you

and your hands that
Are full
of doubt and
apathetically
****** dreams

There's something
about the way
Your smile
makes me feel

And the
way you hold
your cigarettes
to your lips
that reminds me
of how
you
sometimes
hold
    me.

I stay awake—
gas,
ion and
tail.

your ghost strokes
my back, fingers
ski-jumping vertebrae
as my face steams into
powder.

your pith, soft and white:
our star in you—
rove to your low neckline in
fire humming comet.

space is blameless in
this limb of heartbreak.