To Miss Catherine (A Birthday Gift. Sorry I Can't Do Better, But Still…)

Hide out, it's certainly a safe place.
With the lights out and blankets shielding bodies from the cold.
I know that there exists polaroids of clothing that you used to wear.
Your skin constructed cities as it flaked into the stitches and the seams.
Dearest, you've left me with a closet where the moths digest a promise that I'll never tell a soul and I know that you know that.
We stack bricks we're building a brand new city where we will sleep softly and underwater.
Where we are all the same, we're breathless sculptures.