Searching for a reflection of you inside of me

when I look at her every single night

transient bodies, eternal thoughts

what stands is free of chains in an instant

our weeping flows rejoined in a whirlpool

be my motion and my action

as the moon melts and leaks

in the lapse of a cigarette contemplating the dark.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.