I would rather sit back and watch Scrubs than go out tonight.

throw my hair in a bun, put on my glasses and read to my lover.

press my cold toes into bare shins
I want to interlock fingers.
sit back-to-back and guess which knee he has cradled to his chest.

I want life to be simply complicated.

forget how many seconds make up an ounce.
I want hours to be measured in irrational numbers.

making shadow puppets on our naked chests,
we make breathing look like an art form.

knotted ribs and hip bones

...

that's all we really are.