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I woke to you exploring my coastline finger tracing every hidden, jutted stone weathered wood and whipping titanium grass Your muffled voice in the dark filling up the creaking tide pools in india ink careless and velvet I find I can only proceed when it is accidentally breathed in By muttering into your mouth words that feel full like marbles, such as: 'I don’t want to say I love you any more' And so, You flitted in the dark, like a feathery moth For one singular moment until I was fairly sure that you were dead You once told me that you used to fear I would explode like a firecracker in your hand Leave you stranded in gas station bathrooms with leaky mirrors. Forget to pack your lunch before bed Slip you words into your pocket That linger sourly all the day I'll even forget to write the Christmas cards on time Faithfully, I remind you of the fast filling swimming lessons in turquoise green The abrasive pad of your finger sending me drifting- though I am tethered hundreds of thousand years beneath You wake me instead from starry night dreams the sound of coffee pots brewing pushing open the airways in my lungs, taking hold to root themselves in clay instead of dream.