The black of your faded comforter
and grey walls with paint swatches in
tasteful shades of yellow
Against our timid skin
blushing with sun exposure
we have not seen in months
Dim rays slipping in between the blinds
and the rain
–in line segments–
makes its way down your window
We whisper so
the neighbors cannot hear us
pretending to make promises
Five past four
still too early