we were sending out
smoke signals, our campfires
miles apart, speaking in sing-song
tenting flames, using old letters for
kindling,

i was set on a title for god knows why,
thinking it meant more than what we
were on our own, scared you would
leave if we weren't but look at us now--

I show up at your house and curl up
into your chest, it's snowing outside
something i've secretly wished for since
October, to fall asleep in your arms
on a winter night
but we are in May
and he hates the
thought of being
more, we reached
for the moon and
snuffed out the stars

we were sending out
smoke signals, miles apart
using old angers for
kindling.