We fold the blankets halfway over, fill our brains with blue light, fall asleep on our sides.
I recognize your desperate face in the moon's craters. I find your fingerprints on paper bags, my bedroom door knob, oranges: sweet smelling with the nectar of cities and dirty rainwater, pouring down broken pavement after the first spring storm.
I wouldn't say I'm looking for you, just noticing the way traces of you are sprinkled over 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.