It's been 288 hours since you last fixed your curtains
I know since the moonlight covers the very same spot on my bare skin
like it did 12 days ago
I let my eyes feast around your darkened room
by now I've already memorized
every crack and fold of your ceiling
I know the names of the ghosts
that used to spend their nights on your bed
the very same spot I would like to think is mine
mine, in the sense of give and take
where I barter my body when you feel cold and in need of a filler
and in exchange, you give me space
inside that room you call your safe haven
where I give you my breathless moans
for your sweet whispers
and where I give you my mouth
so you could love something about me

but as I find comfort in your arms
your deep kisses stroke my fear
this kind of solace never lasts
and soon
I'd be homeless again.