Under a blanket of sky

When the world was black and white,

And we inhaled laugher, exhaled smoke,

Talking to the sliver of the moon,

I remembered. 

 

Laying in your dead-end street,

Singing of fireflies while the

Gravel pressed into my skin and the midnight

Streelights shimmered,

I understood. 

 

Trapped beneath a million stars

Spilled in milky silver stains across the

Ink of night,

Our voices mixing with campfire embers

And the smell of wet grass,

I knew:

 

The spaces in between the second hand's circle,

The breaths after twelve, three, six, and nine

Make me feel less like myself

And more alive. 

I find my heartbeat in little moments,

Whispers of time that I 

Can't live without.