I might not always be ready
for something so new
and different from
what I was used to

but I like laying in your
warm nest of blankets
and lingering scents
of cigarettes

and smooth skin brushing for hours
because we can’t think of anything else to do

and I could spend the rest of my time asleep
with you

when your hip bones part my thighs
and we don’t know whose hair is whose

I want to cling to you

and listen to your heart
cry for something you’ve never felt