evening

a green fly trails absence
across a room with blue walls

the music gets loud

the air turns
into things

we rummage through spaces
we allow things to happen

 yellow light
 emptied bottles
 humming-birds

we make drawings with pencil stubs
of each other

you think about
shades of purple

by touching the gentle dark beneath my eyes

i think about
things without edges

by smelling the places
where you've rested your head

the sky bruises
the room folds up

and

what could be the last thing
we ever do

we do.