The moon of heart is decaying, like the part of me that was then withering through the fullness of her age / I smelt of the night’s strangeness, slept through the rock that was unfamiliar to my tenderness / in a bed, where her body lays, I saw the shape of someone else / & everything starts to bleed again / there’s a ledge of where I once stood / a tiny peculiar somebody that you used to know / I spoke so much of my sinews, tendons, marrows / that every...