"First day of nightingales"
I can feel my heart
ripping at my chest
(at its cage).
It was the breathing
of the rose
that called me to your side.
To see the moon rise
on our first day
of nightingales.
And on that day
I felt like the raven
(and the moth)
diving head-long
into the sun
I could see in you
eyes
the butterfly born
on your lips.
You never once let go
of the first breath you took.
It was dawn
on our first day
of nightingales.

And we walked
all the way back
from our lives.