Artificial Moonlight

now you’re here on my new tweed sofa and 

my heart feels as bare as our bodies

and the streetlight outside my apartment is shining on us 

through the window, like it wants to impersonate the moon and 

I want to tell you how beautiful you look 

with your skin lit up like that, in this artificial moonlight but

I don’t, because I know you will have something to say about it

about the artificiality of it all, and I will not be able

to resist the urge to whisper, but not us, right?  

and I cannot bear the possibility that you might hesitate to answer

so, I let you hold me instead, listen to the sound of your breathing

until the artificial birdsong lights up my phone

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