we were all once victims of being too nice
lending our bodies on cold nights giving

our arms, thighs, the sides of our necks
wrapping ourselves like a blanket on a child

we gave them warmth, in exchange for subtle
gestures; a head turning, body stumbling into

comfort, hands settling, an old secret mumbled
in the middle of the night, he confides in me,

half
hoping I am listening
half
hoping I won't