Maladaptive

By Noel Munguia-Moreno

As bits and pieces of the sky fall around us, 

I embroider valleys and stars into your lips. 

I pick up one of the numerous shards  

and hold it between our faces, 

The brilliant fractal shines marigold against your twilight  

eyes, and I fall deeper into their enveloping  

endlessness.  

I want to lie there,  

in those rays of golden light  

and your sunset smile,  

to watch the shadows pool into dusk, 

echoing your rose-scented laughter,  

but I know you do not exist. 

Just a monument to the emptiness 

of the chambers inside my chest, 

continuing to pulse  

a timid tune, 

with no one to listen.