Swift as stolen melody, we dance on the edge of sound.
It is in the darkness of falling leaves that we cling for clarity,
and stumble in calculation to some sinking resolve.
Watch the stars burn themselves clean.
Had we ever brought this careless side of self to light,
we could have painted a softer shade of morning
We remember nothing.
listen to the promises of faded photographs,
of moving timepieces.
We're living twilight through the meaning of goodbye.