All souls return here.
But by dark it was just us,
shadowed, haloed in that strange light,
and I wanted nothing more
than to reach out and touch you.
A pink brushstroke, a lily,
a glimmer of lavender—
you’re on your tiptoes, and
I can’t reach, and
there’s one still moment, where
I’ve yet to breathe. Each light
broke against your skin.
A quiet, hollow thing. A kiss. A
clatter of teeth, a puff of smoke,
the highest precipice of that
fourth-floor building,
our eyes. Your hands. That light.