Night Rise

I grew up certain of the fact that with you
stars in perpetuum would come alive at the rise
of night. That we’d lay staring at ceilings white.
Dulled white. The kind that carries no life.
But at the shut of light, as your hand searches
for mine, the ceilings would part. Fracturing
into a thousand phosphorescent flies. Flitting
around us in worship.                 It’s two singles now.
Although the room is plenty. I dreamt of more for us.
I would have spent the rest of my days counting stars
with you. My love, we may have faded but rest assured
that those precious seconds at eventide (before you turn
onto your good side) as your right hand holds onto mine
have grown to be my favourite seconds
of any and every night.

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