I watch your personal vapor rise up and over the curl of your bottom lip
as you tell me about your night.
Your teeth clank ever so slightly
with the words that make your tongue slip on the frigid air.
Your hair falls in your eyes with each passing expression
and you continue to brush it away,
over and over and over again.
With each time this happens,
I watch your locks fall into the bends of your fingers
and the space between your knuckles,
and I wonder what those spaces would feel like between mine.
I bet your hands are wonderful...
My eyes meet yours again and your gaze turns sad
as I feel you think I'm not listening.
Believe me, darling, I've never listened quite so loud.
My ears haven't heard a voice like yours in ages
and my body feels those vibrations from your rib cage  
complimenting your steady breathing as you tell me those tales    
words falling off your lips as I watch them go      
and I can still smell your stories on your coat        
in your clothes          
from your neck when you lean in too close            
and let those hands stroke mine              
sing my hair a lullaby to sleep amidst your fingers                
and I just keep talking                  
and you just keep talking                    
and we never seem to stop and punctuate these words.                      
I only wish now that I could taste them, and we can listen to each other talk all night.
Replying back and forth with our voices so loud that everyone can hear                          
our bodies feeling the other's vibrations from clashing collar bones                            
keeping steady breathing as we speak more and more clearly                              
letting it fall from our lips to our coats                                
to our clothes                                  
to our necks when we can no longer pull away from each other                                    
and those hands                                      
god, those hands are now wrapped in my hair,                                        
screaming it awake                                            
and we just keep talking                                              
and we just keep talking                                                
and we just keep on talking until we finally stop to punctuate these words!                                                  
Funny, we only try and tell this story when our eyes meet,
just after you've pushed the hair from your eyes.
Before either of us can start from the top
your hair is in your eyes once more
and your tongue is seeking refuge behind those chattering teeth
and your vapor is rising again
and I'm longing to listen some more.

an accidental thought
of glass on skin
can lead to something
much more sinister
thoughts become actions
actions become habits
habits become addictions
and soon enough
you've bled out
lying on the bathroom floor
family comes looking
find you
and die inside
and then they have
an accidental thought
of glass on skin