[In the most innocent of ways.]

I love you

and this way we seem

to never get to sleep

For

[moonbeam hours]

There never was any fireworks, darling.

She spoke in jumbled sentences, pronouns.
The way her words threaded so loosely together, and frayed so easily apart.
But it was the best of separations.
Watching a bird fly, ten birds fly...
A cloud of flight, to ease the mind.

"Are you sleeping
Can you hear me
Do you know if I am by your side?
Does it matter
If you can hear me?
When the morning comes I'll be there by your side."

Yes, I love you too.

the silly boy that feels the need

to say he loves me

while our faces are stuffed with strawberries

and we're on the kitchen floor.