We always talked about watching the sunset,
Laying on the roof
Watching the lights of the city below us
As if they were stars forming constellations,
Pointing out people walking by
As if they were ants below our feet on the sidewalks,
Tracing each other scars
With the tips of my fingers
And your smooth, perfect lips.
But we never talked about the sunrise.
The moon doesn't stick around for the morning,
But neither did you.