1600

The light that's like a hole
And the fold that opens on tender night
Each have only sugar for the cell

The night burns our breath into flowers
The blood catches on itself
Little stones washed by the spring in the street

As piano music from a time of plague
The only word for it is crashes
In the one apartment with no lit screen

It's not your call I'm waiting for
Or even your good will I just want you
As the song goes to want me