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.