I woke up at the darkest part of day. See the soft curls and indentations of your lips, the subtle pop before speaking when you slowly part them, where what you mean is heard the loudest, in the silence of anticipation. We are preparing for the end of the wor(l)d, with the most absurd of things stitched on the most intimate parts of bodies. When you lift up your hands like that: accidental perforations. Responding, but I want to hold (you) when it’s raining like this. Put your palm on mine and feel that strange sensation where nothing belongs to me.