The sounds of your breath in the morning
When there are thunderclouds waiting on the stoop
You crawl into my veins like rainfall
My ventricles feel damp

And heavy.
Caught in the tangle of how your words feel
And how your hands feel
When rays of sun can’t find us

I lose myself driving through this mist
Of the sounds that form from your throat at midnight
And I emerge soft and dazed with something burning
In the center of my chest

The way your fingers trace out maps on my ribcage
Directions away from a person I don’t have to be again
Your clothes smell like promises
That I’ve been whispering against your chest while you laugh

The softness of your mouth on my temple
When you let the door shut behind you
And leave me in the quiet of your morning fog

I’m rooted in the secrets that your sheets hold
And in the kindness of your hands on my back
Pulling me away from the stormy place that I’ve been
For so long

And into you.
Honeyed, tempered, and warm.