lights flare and colour
the compressions of mislaid understanding

they turn like
spring without flowers
and spin like
winter without snow

they vacate like faded
concrete and burn like
wasted, pressing aisles

they sway like promises
of heartbreak, and crumple
like sharp, reflected whispers

they move like
formless shadows and
imagine like closeness

to you

—i bend:
throbbing
dully