I am worldbuilding in the roof of your mouth, cozened up
between the moon and the taste of your tongue.
In ochre waves we wash each other's hearts, hands tempered
by the faultlines and flaws we know we bear. In this midnight
you are pure, a sluice of hot blood through an empty vein.
Dear heart, under my gaze you are blameless, a salt
and stillwater dream of all the ways we will heal.