LeftHeadphone

I remember when we'd sit on your porch and name each star Tracing constellations with felt tip fingers against a waning dark But now the ever buzzing neon angels are my deities Their electric hum my newest hymn And yours are frozen breaths that cloud our celestial map from view Much like how the mountains disrupt the letters I fold into paper aeroplanes Trying to catch an updraft to reach your outstretched fingertips