if the sky's full of birds,
what do you care?
Our feet are on the ground
and our hands are in the air.
you're the collector of weeds
and fallen trees,
everything unwanted,
living in houses filled with bees.
the woods will never tell us
where we will go next.
we screamed Our names into the sky
it's just how we do it best.
I did not love you
for your skin nor your bones
nor the places you turned
from houses into homes.
it might have been how
you danced with twigs in your hair.
that night I was so warm
and my skin it felt so bare.
painting skyscrapers on Our bellies
I ate the stars, you ate the sun.
the monsters have come looking
but now, I know which way to run