Sail back down the moon
left by the door of dust caked feet
you claim to be your own.
Paint back the days spent flipping scales,
replace the compass drenched in blood
in the center of my living room.
The king and pawn don't look so different
if you squint you eyes.
Tell me again, slower this time
how we coexist as moths and light.
Peculiar you'd say, how unequal it seems.
Seventeen years and not a sense
of the universe within each drop
on flesh as thin as the umbrella above your head.
Everyone's a soldier
marching on the shoulder
of every other soldier.
Carry me back on the back that didn't break
when night swallowed its stomach.
I may be a moth by your side
but the light didn't leave
when it had the chance.