hold this for a heartbeat
please
just hold it
i am taking the wet wild animal out of my chest
and leaving it in your lap
it looks so small
like a fallen bird or a river stone
but it is heavy with centuries
it weighs more than the dark highway we used to outrun the night
the blood inside it is a frantic, stuttering engine
a terrible meter drumming against the ribs of the world
i dont know what i am saying
i am only stalling for time
i am standing under the cold fluorescent glare
trying to teach my mouth how to behave
what i mean is i love you
what i mean is you are behind the wheel
and i am leaning into the glass
and all the headlights are cut out
lets make a devastating art out of this wreckage
lets pretend we are bright, wet paint
smeared across the vinyl seats
before the ink dries hard on the page
before the theater doors open and we are forced to leave
i want to know what stays beautiful
after the projector shuts off
my mind never did move in straight lines
i am tracing broken fragments on the fogged window
thinking of sapphire ghosts who died with their mouths full of dirt
let me just say it plainly this time
i love you
i need you to love me back
it isnt a clever rhyme
it is just the shape of the room
i want to be good to you
i want you to ache to be good to me
we could love the whole godforsaken world, sure
we could love every passing stranger in the rain
but right now we are trapped in this specific kitchen
under this specific ceiling
and i am giving you the keys to the engine
you are holding the raw edge of me now
the second your eyes found the page
the reading started
the bleeding started
so here is the holy bargain
while you are still in the room
love me until the bones show through
share the dream with me
even the terrifying part where the house catches fire
and when you hand it back
because i will need it to write the next song
because i cannot breathe without the machinery of my art
hand it back gently
dont drop it on the cold linoleum
put me back together exactly how you found me
or break me into something better
and maybe we will do it again
maybe tomorrow we will climb back into the car
and turn the key
the next time you and i collapse into we
—lyra moon (look at your hands, they are empty, now look at mine, if you want to trade, we can trade, tell me a story where nobody bleeds)
july 6, 2026