#alexcorey

Moon, tonight we are both full and hiding. You behind clouds, and me behind closed doors. How does it feel to be fat again? I feel tired from food. Your dim glow spreads over the clouds like a mother who’s love can’t escape from her chest. I was afraid of you as a kid. The song you whisper sounds like sleep, which sounds like death, which sounds like nothing. Tonight, I’ll stand on my heels and reach to you.

I heal in this quiet light.

I find new freckles on my arm every year. I can’t keep track of my own constellations. But when did I memorize the pattern above your lip? The other day in line I met someone with a freckle in his eye, another pupil. I thought it was cool, but I didn’t say so. The snow light outside freezes our hands. Let’s go home. What if we always saw our breath float away like a ghosts? Some kid called me beautiful outside Safeway last night, and his greasy golden hair in fluorescent light looked angelic. I never said thank you. At Christmas people wrap this sleeping world in a bow and sell it away to strangers. Build your fire soon, because winter never lasts. Walk me home, My Love, and let’s sleep through this silence.