is there a light to
curl my fingers
                    around
and pretend the red glow
betrays their fire?

you mean to stay?
incapable of letting out, midnight
walks and warmed benches, windows
whispering open at the touch of a lip

early openings in an otherwise beautiful
block of noise
                     I was so sure so sure can we hear more than
                     the others?

or else that thumping is my own
heart sending a message in spurts and
suction, congealed promises from my understandings
to yours