You dragged me down to the outermost mountains. I’m just waiting around for the fucking sun. Later, one of the following nights, as we followed each other down each our line.

We are a conversation rising up behind the eyes. Days. Weeks. When I see you. On a screen.

It was parts of your dreams that fell out between your lips. It was before the diamonds, even before the movement of my fingers through shadows, through hair, through town plan after town plan.