if you sigh
and tell me that he doesn’t love you,
if you sigh
and say he’ll eventually forget about you,
i will remind you.
i’ll remind you
that all of those whispered
sweet nothing’s
become everything
when it’s late at night
and your limbs are so
wound up
that you can’t tell whose
is whose anymore.
when there are actions to
back the sweet everything’s up,
soft temple kisses
like praying for a peaceful night,
a warm hand on the small of your back.
sweet,
everything and anything sweet.
but not nothing.