'This is the room one afternoon I knew I could love you/and from above you how I sank into your soul,' Jeff Mangum croons through the crackling speakers*

...similarly simple,
like the coyness of corner smiles,
I  am exposed
finally
  to your bedroom,
and the snug universe you've built within.

Cross-legged on your bed
I hear your nervous, careful stories.
Spoken into fidgeting fingers, silken wrinkled
bedsheets debauched and  re-washed--
your words fall into them so easily
like you've found  benevolence in their silence--
their softness as language.

Imbibing every ounce of you,
I wish to endure
like the canvases that span your wall.
But I dissolve back into winter
as you regain your right mind.
The ascending stairs creak
hungover and meek
like me