Zigzag across the road only when
You’re sure you’re safe, when the headlights aren’t burning
Xrays of your bones onto the concrete. Dark enough
Where all i can see are the whites of your eyes. your 
Voice carries over distant traffic, jubilant and trembling.
Unbelievable, how you carry on
Tough as teeth through the winter when the air
Scrapes at the insides of my lungs. how
Real are we, if there’s no one to witness us
Queers spin circles around each other?
Portents of grief are etched into
Our eyes, our hands, our
Notebooks. you dig your hands into the
Mulch just to feel something 
Live, look for someone to 
Kiss a few more times before you
Jump in front of the regional rail.
If only i had more of everything: money, time,
Hands to hold in the dead of winter. i’d
Give you the moon if i had the space, but i’ll settle
For tangerines and late night phone calls. don’t be so 
Eager to test your fragility on the road. we’ll outlive the
Death of the empire, but maybe not your instincts. 
Cry as much as you like if it keeps you from
Breaking open in the middle of the road. the
Asphalt already knows what you taste like.

Cyrus Nasib (he/they) is a queer theater maker living and working in Philadelphia. Their work has previously been published in Underground Pool and Temple University’s Lunar Journal. Aside from poetry, Nasib also works in stage management, directing, and playwriting. His work focuses on alienation and loneliness, queer love, and the beauty in the little things. Find more of their work on Instagram at @_apollyanna_.