You met me as a sinner—
we learned each other’s hunger.
A love song on repeat, two scraps
of flesh, whispering want like
a secret language.
We spoke in lowered tongues
as the sun slipped out of sight.
Now the night calls me the way
daylight used to—
warm, dangerous, alive.
Take your opera seat,
lay every worry on top of me.
Hear my broken voice try to sing,
count the wrinkles in music sheets.
Rest here!
There’s thirst in man's eyes;
stars hiding in the hollow, learning
your shape, your weight; my favourite
learning curve to carry.
"Creatures survive in numbers,"
they say; but when their mate goes
missing, what’s left isn’t survival;
it’s an absence learning how to
breathe again.
Feb 9
Feb 9, 2026 at 1:51 PM UTC
You met me as a sinner—
we learned each other’s hunger.
A love song on repeat, two scraps
of flesh, whispering want like
a secret language.
We spoke in lowered tongues
as the sun slipped out of sight.
Now the night calls me the way
daylight used to—
warm, dangerous, alive.
Take your opera seat,
lay every worry on top of me.
Hear my broken voice try to sing,
count the wrinkles in music sheets.
Rest here!
There’s thirst in man's eyes;
stars hiding in the hollow, learning
your shape, your weight; my favourite
learning curve to carry.
"Creatures survive in numbers,"
they say; but when their mate goes
missing, what’s left isn’t survival;
it’s an absence learning how to
breathe again.
This poem explores intimate love between imperfect people, where desire, comfort, and vulnerability overlap. It reflects on how deeply human connection can feel like survival itselfand how devastating it is when that connection disappears. Its not a celebration of sin, but an honest portrayal of love that exists in the grey, tender and fragile, aware of its own impermanence.
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