Hide out, it’s certainly a safe place. With the lights out and blankets shielding bodies from the cold. I know that there exists polaroids of clothing that you used to wear. Your skin [bad word] cities as it flaked into the stitches and the seams. Dearest, you’ve left me with a closet where the moths digest a promise that I’ll never tell a soul and I know that you know that. We stack bricks we’re building a brand new city where we will sleep softly and underwater. Where we are all the same, we’re breathless sculptures.