i know time nests
in the small corners of midnight
i feel your touch
the edge of it, the rise of it, the moment
we slip into those darker chambers
where feeling can pretend to hold us
we shift, we strain
two bodies rehearsing the idea
of coming together
i see you in that hour
your waking pulse
your heat spilling into the room
it embarrasses me
the rawness of it
the way truth becomes grotesque
when it passes through your eyes
i touch the paint
just to feel it drying
to see if anything here is real
to test the outline of possibility
it’s easy to lose yourself
in moments
in murmured words
in the silhouettes people cast
when there’s no light left
i still feel you
i feel the air gather
i hear your shape in the quiet
and i hate admitting it
it unsettles me
it spoils
it collapses into itself
and there you are
found
but only
as an abrupt ending