Although we didn’t gather it together in a normal tide of actions
This was still a kind of victory
A subtle grace against anything we were used to
This was the only feat I ever really wanted
Something that grips you, but all the while
Lays you down
I can’t remember all of it, but there was something said about hard held goodbyes and the song we first played on the radio
Maybe it feels far away, and you leave it fractured in this way,
not really worried about smoothing over the edges
I liked this way where things were
drawn out and honest
like the ending sun
We couldn't really capitalize on loss because it was always at our fingertips.
We never grew tired of waiting because we always knew the perimeter would not hold.
As we grew older, dreams were reserved for evening; a quiet elude into novelty, a way of erasure, seduced into hiddenness.
If I could pour secrets over once more I would, but not here.
As people partition fragments, alchemical longing is found in the crux of pretend.
But the moon is still here, holding.