I don’t want to look up at the sky anymore
for it terrifies me
the stars have never been more than crumbs of the universe
laymen wish upon
and suddenly I find myself
tracing your eyes
nose
and the bottom of your chin
along constellations complex
crumbs that leave a path
tiny pieces of you
that lead me home

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it’s 6:21 and when I look out my window from the corner of 29D, 

there’s a subtle hue of blood orange outlining what looks like the perimeter of 

a space

of sky

and a breeze of clouds, lighter than feathers, so thin, as if it forgot to carry the mist it was designed to pour tonight 

but that’s okay, because it found itself a new purpose:

your shrewd orange spirit is now perf...

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