i like the way (your soft hair feels like home
                          on my knuckles) your palms rest on the curves
                                                        of­ my waist-
                                                          ­                     wasting precious time
                         (you could have spent an eternity with me)
and humming foreign lullabies underneath the stars
                         (your side of the bed is empty) and i softly weep
my sniffles are a metronome