Poetry & Prose

buried moon

together we were yellow-happy 

lucky number sevens

and you kept me warm, 

saying, i’m with you 

we were white-hot 

like the aftermath of lightning 

imprint yourself on my eyelids

like a promise of your return 

those nights were like a dream 

that i would try to find my way to during the sun, 

running behind you through the 


you always looking back 

but never stopping for me