We are faults; we are despairing flaws that blemish the surface of our revolving sphere with the intent of making reparations.
We collapse entire cores of foundations and tear down freshly plastered walls with family portraits and decorative ceramic angels hanging from stainless steel nails.
We destroy entire civilizations, coating citizens in molten lava from a volcano that never overlooked them in the first place, leaving future lovers stepping over their remains unknowingly and blissfully clueless.
We are natural disasters; we tear through corn fields, bring down windmills, and rip shingles off of roofs while toddlers sleep soundly under quilted blankets.
But moonlight shoots through your veins and sun burns from the crevice of your chest and I can't help but cup it in my hands and put it in my coat pocket for safe keeping