it took days to leave that room
again, after we tucked ourselves in;
feet cold and perpetually sleepy eyed
as I tend to be on my best days.
left to my own devices, my hands
search for flesh to feel comfortable
so I carved into you like wet concrete,
pieces of information encoded and
left like detritus of a life lived in rooms
that spun like tops when we closed our eyes.
and as we slept on our sides, bodies fitting
together, my fingers gripping your hip bone
as if I could use it to bring myself back
to reality if the dreams turned sour
in the middle of the night; that is
if i found the courage to sleep at all.