We are yours, in the hush of the neon rain,
we fold our ghosts into paper boats,
sail them through your heartbeat’s drain.
We are the smoke you never exhale,
the tremor in the vinyl groove,
the secret your mirror keeps.
Take our cracked laughter,
our 3 a.m. static prayers;
we tattoo them on the inside of your wrists
so every clap of the storm