It should take more to bring me to tears.
I shouldn’t quiver at the sight of the moon’s light peeking through a cracked window onto your bare chest,
wrapping your bare breast in a blue glow
like it does the crest of the mountain, a convenient twenty minute drive away.
Yet here I am, placed perfectly parallel on a disheveled mattress,
Skillfully settled between your naked body and a clothing adorned floor,
hiding from your view my wet cheeks and misty eyes so that I won’t have to explain why the sight of you
does to me what lightning does to trees.