Windy night

your head as a soggy cardboard box

broken down on a windy night

your chest is the person you love

concaving like a memory where

you don't have access

to the things you need

your tongue licking

the same shining blade

your fingers wanting to give up

on something fundamental

your eyes remain steady

on this substance solidifying

into the future

that one brutally

barrelling towards us

your whole body may be familiar

with this cruel low

a strained heart

and that lashing wind

beating itself into

your little box