a brightness when you're not awake, it isn't what i'm asking for, maybe if it were autumn, in more than just a metaphorical sense. maybe i would be happier to join you in winter. maybe i would board up my raspy hellos with bright coloured scarves and strangely constructed jackets and coats that have extra compartments for secrets. maybe a willingness to tell my retorts to behave.
honestly, i don't see the need to ask my honesty to quieten down. because a happy hello is not the same if it is a lie. jesus and queens have nothing to do with hand-helds tight enough.
i scale the walls of your dreams and i always fall short, fall down into the bottoms of the beginnings of mine, because it is before dreamtime, it is beyond ragnarok, and the air is still, and the shells of old buildings, they echo your name, and the shatters of old windows falling into makeshift piazzas, they murmur our goodbye in their descent.



title: old buildings, they echo your name,