In the shadow of each movement,
In the flicker of thought before sleep,
Orange, on the inside of an eyelid.

In the space between skin and blood,
In the silence linking each heartbeat,
Green, in the craters of a purple moon.

A peristent ghost,
A second glance,
A ring of light:
What was left behind.

“We were here,” he wrote.
And here we’ll stay.