My heart is with you, its many dark corners, its rings of smoke, its lighted hallways—and I wish you could know all the ghosts in my bones. They are weeping, they are screaming, they are inside my body. Oh, let’s trade skins. I’m rippling in this skin that I’m in. You could wear my shoes, I could have your hair, and think that it was fair. I’m rippling in the skin that I’m in. ”I’m gonna build you,” she said, “I’m gonna heal you. I can feel every part of you that holds it together.” And you always looked so happy when you were sleeping. Sleep is the only way, sometimes, to live in a perfect world. It’s party time, quiet and sublime. Tonight there’s a party, a party of one like a wisp of smoke (solitary and thin). The heat’s coming off the fires we built. Stars were meant to shoot and waves were meant to crash. I’m hypnotized by the flicker, and saddened by the ash. And it’s complicated, with desires and dreams, with stitches and battle scars pulling apart at the seams.