my eyes are cups of oceans that leak out when your moon face nears and when you’re out of reach my eyelids wade in the tide pools of solitude

i feel the shimmering tremors of memory with the relaxing of tectonic plates, pulsing, purring and i quake with the knowledge of the things i was before you but our particles are intermingling in this constant state of flux that suspends us in its depths and my fear of isolation casts a radiance outward that no one is too blind to see

i wish for the childlike ability to forgive but the scent of mildewing remembrances comforts me and i imagine you again as the moon, delicate but waning, soon to disappear leaving my night sky lit only by the ghosts of moths that used to flutter around your lights but with this reversion to childhood my urge to gravitate towards your mouth and arms is disharmonious, immodest and i forget all speech and control, stumbling, seeking the spaces between your fingers

so here i sit mulling in the soft steam of fragments snatched from far away from those who have more security than i, sloshing in a river of stars, rafting through the blackness of a river void which runs cyclically around your wrist, hoping for a glimpse of paleness or the glint of silverfish collarbones, sharp and milky

i am hopefully lost, echoes erupting floating on the surface of this illusion that we are two, wishing only to be absorbed in your pull of the tides, warm and fragile like sun baked sand melting into you, revering these shaking waves like a museum piece so sordidly clear

heavy-lidded and murmuring in my half-awake state i am seducing myself with formulated words and planned fantasies, flagrantly dispassioned, searching for something to quench my desire, but your glow is softly captivating and the night will last long enough to indulge me and perhaps the sun will never reveal itself over the crest of your shoulder