there’s a haze at your edges tonight.
I want to crawl inside it until the world is blurry and nothing has the same name,
until the relentless force of weightless things has changed the shape of what I know.
what I know is only this:
you stayed still while I wound around you like a ribbon
now I can’t tell beginning from end.
you’re waiting me out with a lie’s bitter taste on your lips, learning –
I can keep this up all night.
words move faster toward the horizon.
we always spoke easier when the thoughts had to go somewhere else, first.
the key to the dark places got buried beneath the weight of loving things you say I shouldn’t.
what I love is only this:
sometimes I pull my hand from yours while you’re sleeping
you don’t just let go.
we’re playing chicken in a ghost town like the winner won’t still lose, forgetting –
we have to leave together, or not at all.
I’m turning over everything that glimmers in this dump.
I still haven’t found what you’re looking for.