we drove through vacant parking lots trying to recover our lost luggage

the moon reflected off the gray asphalt making the *** holes look like craters

and your voice stung my skin when it broke the silence

because the interior has been worn down by all my angles

I was drowning in all the things I couldn’t say

for a second i felt greedy because

here I was choking in an ocean of thoughts

and there you were parched, searching for anything

any word at all

if this is what the surface of the moon feels like-

streetlights glowing on my hands, making a kaleidascope

of patterns and shapes-

then I still would never want to go

if it meant draining your bones until they are brittle

until they are nothing but dust piled in my hands