i lie here, your deep breathing
tickling tiny wisps of my hair

the cracked ceiling tiles have
never looked so interesting

somehow, your warm body cocooned itself
around mine last night
and i can't bring myself to untangle
your limbs from mine

you're a box labeled: “FRAGILE.
HANDLE WITH CARE.”

and one thought flutters forward:
“oh, honey,
how no one handled you with care.”

my fingers trace “fragile” on your exposed skin,
as i count -one,two- the cracks
in the ceiling.
-DDF