this is awkward.

A movement toward home, or toward softer sound waves? We left the words dripping wet on the line, their throats full of tears, and then we left them out to dry. They dried and malingered while the room burned with the heat of stars. Do they mean anything once they’ve dried?

Do I burn better by your side?

Can it exist without this enormous gravity?

I stand uncertain.

And still.

(I believe I prefer you)