There was a sky of waning moonlight
and a half-filled brandy bottle.

There were cigarettes without filters
and smoke obscured your sultry eyes.

We wrote our names in nightlight,
waiting for the end of time.

We stayed up late together.
We considered all there is.

We took each other everywhere.
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We ate the food of our ancestors and the raw meat devolved us.
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We lived like feral animals.
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We lost our every language;
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**************************that means we lost the words for love.

Slowly, we returned ourselves.

But didn’t there used to be a waning moonlight?
Didn’t there used to be heavenly bodies?