"The sky is falling down, the night is calling you, a star is burning out. The sky belongs to you."

When I get awakened by bad dreams of everything past and I experience this peculiar moment where I reached out for help, I think about how old the sun is and how I sometimes mistake you for the moon.

I tried to summarize you.

Words collapsed. I heard your laugh. You are the ocean. 

                 It burns up when we are together and it's all over                      both of our bodies. It's in the bed and on the desk and                  in the shower and it's passionate and violent and it's                     tooth and nails and heavy music in the background.

                  It's patient and soft when we are away. It's a sure                       thing, it's a river, it's natural. It waits nicely and when                   it starts hurting it's only to make us realise it's real.

I want to travel the world, I want to be your road or your map. Meet me in Dijon/ in Paris/ in Cambridge. Meet me where the world ends and hold my hand. Meet me in a fort made of sheets or on a skate trip to Iceland. Meet me when both of our cigarettes end. Meet me in my eyebrows. Meet me in my words.