i built you a promise made from fear
the first rules were simple enough:
distance measured in meters, feet...
tracing lines along my bed,
allowing only our words to intermingle
in a way that our limbs could not.
then- no longer counting inches,
we would read the familiar
braille of each others
skin with trembling fingertips
crafting cradles for words that existed
in a place outside of both of us.
this nightly battle is fought with subtitles
that we (like children)
refuse to read, having convinced ourselves
that we are fluent in the subtle
nuances of the dialect.
but still, we fall to sleep
as the moon falls from earth
(perfect lethargy of orbit)
and like the moon, we will retrace our
steps indefinitely, following footprints that no longer
conform to the contours of
our feet, but whose directionality
wake the next morning and pen words to paper,
constantly rewriting ourselves.