Losing my mind in a cup of NeoCitron, I wake up at all sides of the apartment. The walls move, the floor is lava. And all I think about is you. Did I do right by telling you I love you? Did we do right by mapping out our future? When I’m stuck millions of meters from you. Losing my mind. In the walls, in the floors. I’ll never hear a ‘love you’ back, I figure: At most, a gentle whisper of affection In an early morning greeting. I’ll learn to take it. I’ll make a home in it. If the walls move, darling — so do I.