That night,
I poured myself into your arms and
took the shape of that absence
It doesn't matter what we are.
We are made and destroyed
by what we love.
Curls of smoke cascaded over your face,
your furrowed brow.
I was looking at something that was never meant
for me to see.
We can talk about anything,
but not this.
Not the hours drawing long lines on your back
as the light dragged itself over our bodies
Not the songs becoming prayers, becoming brittle
in our mouths.
It doesn't matter what we are
We are made of what we love
You were never me,
I was never you.