I flinch with the smell of smoke.
It wakes me up a moment before
you lay down. It has been a while
since your four o’clock texts urged me
to respond. You don’t mind,
But want a chance
to hear that you’re more than this.
You don’t get it,
but I don’t really even consent.
Not that I mind,
but I fear where you go for rent,
As you come in to a bed that accepts you.
Together, we both keep coming
with excuses that climax with bad and worse ideas.
Eventually our words won’t hum and sing to the tune
of our bodies. And this pen will finally have a voice.
My alarm goes off again at six. Finally,
I flinch from under your palm, look
Once more onto your face, laid
Upon an uncased pillow, then I shower off
the night, to disguise myself for the day.