I once told you I would jump from this rooftop,
that the tiles in it were not strong
enough to hold us both,
and if it started pouring I would slip,
beyond those wooden floors.
You once told me you’d
that every night my passing would make you cry
but believe in me, as you sit there
longing for our stars at night over the orange cloth.
And we both sat up there waiting for the night
birds went home,
bats flew by,
the sun left the sky gently
pulling the warmth from our necks.
And, as you pulled your weight
down the stairs,
your feet colder
with each step
you left your heart
or maybe it fell beside me,
like the dusk sky
above our heads.