curling up under someone elses covers
over my head to hear my breath
and to bloom forth a cloud
of an alcoholics perfume

listening to a train toot over
a gentle sob
digits clasped tight to my brow
tears running over the joints never cut

thank god im whole
****
i said god again

the things that i love are alive
including myself
for now anyway
and feeling this deeply counts
in fact
the emotion itself counts as life
it breathes with me
well
with you mostly
but me too
we can share right?

the things i love
they wriggle
gossip
bloom
become buoyant
or adrift
they are literate
and simultaneously silent
they are theifs
and simultaneously altruistic

all the things that i love
these things that i love
they are within you
and i only borrowing them
not renting
though i did buy you that....
****
i never bought you anything

so yeah
borrowing.