new year, a month late

I was told the ocean was a thin film.
Underneath was rock. I was told just
to create. We decided living wasn’t
the forward gaze. You smelled like this
when I knew you first – you smelled like my face
in our hair. The room filled up; I wanted
to be looking but judgment
sleeps lightly. At the point when we’re only conductor,
the energy collected by sight is enough to sustain