Vaguely I remember how and when
she got infected. She was sleeping,
disconnected from the world, heaping
inconsistencies onto a pile and then
breathing softly, laid to rest beside me.
Her chest was acting like the tides, see
how easily she fell into security.

In trust we slept,
though I could not help but stare.
Her nose kept
me infatuated, as if she didn't even care.

She's like a sheep in wolves clothing.
A lobster in lukewarm water,
the footprint of her father.

I wouldn't mind losing space and sleep in bed
if it would mean she meant the words she never said.