We tie so much of ourselves and memory to sensations 

whether they're made together or are the surroundings framing you, 

eyes watching raindrops trickle along the windshield as I drive us home.

The stars furiously wheeling above, 

your hand squeezed mine and I never knew what 

you were thinking then and maybe I'm not meant to, 

maybe I can never know the things that send your heart into exile.

The gaps in words softly escaping you when we lay together, 

unable to decipher what your eyes want to convey, 

they're a lovely lens I can only see through in our sleep 

where there are no secrets left between us and I know 

I'm the only one there so patiently unraveling the being beneath.

The departure of your skin from mine is like 

walking through winter alone, 

your recollections becoming the tiny sparking 

bonfires to dispel and warm the surrounding 

shadows so I can keep moving, 

the cutting winds hunting stray leaves and 

any living thing that dares to cross where you dream.

Everything in me is hushed with the dark blue blanketing the sky, 

the mountains and towers along the horizon 

beckon like dim glittering jewels, 

taunt like the promise of lips meeting.

You are the architect here, 

continents and seasons shaped or shattered on a blinking whim, 

a paradise when your heart tingles, 

a sweeping apocalypse obliterating all when you cry, 

yet I keep moving.

Unwavering in the face of the monsters from your 

nightmares watching from the dying husks of trees, 

the splitting ground and cracking ice beneath my feet.

But I keep moving, the call in my blood for you 

an infinite tie to the beauty framing your form and the love beneath.

The stars furiously wheeling above, 

your hand squeezing mine, 

and what I have unraveled so far can be the guides, 

the roads and signals to move through where you dream 

and keep all you are tied to me.