Last night
I heard your shoes cover
the puddled moon
and watched it drown beneath
your feet.
Drown. Then smash into
lunar chips
of midnight orange.
Later, icy pockets hunched
in ripped folds of
swallowed words lay between us. Crumpled
by misunderstanding.
Sliced sharp as serrated lips.
Brought to mine to kiss.
To kiss and say
sorry.
Beyond, the moon again.
Its neon shards cracked
together lifts the
silent squares of light
from unlit
windows.
Tranquil, we sleep.
Folded in melts
of silver.
Crescent-lipped and healed.
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