two a.m,
in your kitchen,
lighting cigarettes on your stove.
i'm thankful for
your addiction
or your arms wouldn't be
holding me close.

time is as long as
this cigarette will allow -
the present,
the future,
is here & now.

with each flick
of my wrist,
my eyes do the same -
from your clothes
to your oceanic eyes
to your sunken in face.
you know
i want your taste -

but ashes linger
in my mouth
& your hand headed south
& i guess we were playing
different games.

i searched for the words
to fill your
unsaid thoughts
but you searched for
my body's beginning
to connect the dots.