The evening’s sky, the spill of sapphire
through the cloud, the way it seemed
to follow us up the mountain,
disrobing in the heat,
or losing it's identity
when we saw the city below.

For miles homes gathered,
sitting quietly from where we were,
the lights flickering our faces on and off.
But if we would of moved closer,
we could of felt the life,
like a pulse seeping
from impatient hands.

We imagined a world; the play of dust,
traffic, voices, and footfall
along the streets,
like some perpetual film
playing in black and white.

We counted out a lifetime's
worth of heartbeats on the mesa,
and gardens smudged with an earlier rain
that caught the moonlight
and disappeared, but never quite
arrived at an absence.

I felt my thoughts fall into you,
as we overlooked something
stirring down below.
Perhaps it was the sense of emptiness
that has now grown silent
over the years.

And I recall mentioning I disliked
the city, or never really cared
to know it, how I felt lonely
whenever you were away.

Turning towards me, you smiled
and held my hand with a strength
that could have crushed a million doubts.

I looked into your eyes, found myself
mulling over the day you would be leaving,
or how we would say goodbye,
both of us falling like the stars
that surrounded us that night.