a cluster of constellations gathers
at the foot of his bed.
the sky opens wide and the
wolves are let loose.
running away into the night,
that blue-eyed boy walks alone.

his shoulders are covered in golden
dust so I bathe in his sweetness.
as soft as a moth's wings, he draws
me in with his hungry heart.
there's a pale sorrow that comes
along with calling him "home".