Blue light slinks in under the blinds
And veils your face.
The shadow of your eyes,
Your jaw
Is bold against your glowing skin.
I try to float up to your lips
But I am clumsy and heavy.
And you are soft and strong,
Sweet and inviting.

My breathing is shallow
And my pulse deep,
Radiating in my chest,
Fluttering in stomach.
I could cry,
But I won’t.
I’m so easily overwhelmed by poetry,
I’m easily overwhelmed by melody,
By art.
You are their sum
And I am saturated by you.

The feeling is cold,
But my cheeks are warm.
Don’t scream,
I tell myself.
Don’t break down here.
Don’t let burdensome words
Escape your historically tight lips
That have now found themselves foolish.
Foolish girl.
I am weaker than I thought,
I am weaker than I need to be
To keep up this game.

But you make me gush.
My skin is flush.
I’m blushing pink,
Inventing scenes of your body against mine.
I’m dripping over you.
My legs wither and I fall into contra pasto
Memorializing the taste of you.

My writing is unwieldy
And you deserve better.
Your smile deserves grace
And organized meter.
Your hands deserve alliteration and metaphor.
Your arms deserve allusion.
Your eyes a rhyme scheme,
Your hair personification.