We are fighting entropy
in our sleep.
We fold the blankets halfway over,
fill our brains with blue light,
fall asleep on our sides.
I wake up sweating in the suffocating dark.
I recognize your desperate face
in the moon's craters.
I find your fingerprints
on paper bags and my bedroom doorknob,
places that crackle with the feeling of you.
Oranges no longer smell like sunshine,
but of avenues,
the sticky sweet nectar of your eyes,
dirty rainwater, pouring down broken city pavement
after the first spring storm.
I'm not searching;
just noticing the way fragments of you
are splintered into my life.
I might be falling apart,
I might miss something I've never had,
I might accidentally love everyone who smiles at me,
but I refuse to believe I'm the opposite of chaos.
We’re all disordered,