at night, i strip you until you're naked
peeling the layers of day's dust off you

sometimes your touch replies to mine
like when you shiver against the sponge

but on most days, you just lie there
blank eyes staring, sometimes waiting

for the ceiling to cave in on your body
pressed tight against the heat of my skin

and a part of me is hoping you're listening
for my heartbeat in this strange silence

that somehow you're scared of losing me
through your inner fog and nightmares

but when your fingers wind around mine
there are slow vines on the trellis of my arm

it's a lot like suffocating in a forest of you
where your scent overpowers and i am lost

knowing my roots are bound too tight
around the surface soil of your sins

and i know that pulling myself loose
would only break you all over again.