One night, one night in many many nights like the glint of a velvety pebble
in the rim of the brown moon's swallow
I lay in bed feeling the itchiness of my skin running taut through a parsed
desert of stillness.
I sighed into my own hair, imagining it was your's and I began to be afraid of what
I did not know.

The most understated and beautiful part about a person's features are their eyelids, when they glance down as in to collect their thoughts. Their eyelids are like the waxy bellies of ripe buds and I stagger a smile inside.