You
sprinting to meet your sideways obsessions.
Your hands thread through my insulation
I am embroidered with your insecurities.

Across your hips and rippling through
me,
I am upside down phobias.

You dug into gravel,
and rocks flew from your hands
coated with confused affection
and hit every pane of glass for miles around

Residue at the bottom of wine bottles,
and the very first sip.
I drank you, too much
skin on skin
your coldness embraced me so softly
I forgot about spring.