i spent the afternoon thinking about that one night.
the night you told me who you would be
and all the things you'd do. all your plans.
i admire everything about you.
i cant stop thinking
about the smell of your breath
and the way your iris resembled crisp craters,
but the color of ice.
i've never smoked a **** so old.
25 years of instigating emotions.
with the sound of blues in our ears
and the taste of whiskey on our tongues,
we're fading fast.
half asleep on the couch,
and unsure of which subject to speak,
you accompany me upstairs.
dusk struggles to find its way through your enormous window
clothes go from the hangers of bodies to piles on the floor.
long awkward silence as  we both pretend to sleep,
neither knowing why.
tension calmly breaks in an instant
and this time,
the moment is stretched
into one long sigh of relief.
"slow" barely escapes your shuddering, pre-occupied lips;
your voice makes me crave every part of your being
both physical and unseen