there's a constellation of glass shards in the back of your car
tessellate them into a few sleepy cigarettes
within a few drags
the night and your room became the universe
and i'm forgetting to say that it was anxiety
that passed me the blanket to give you
we're tucked into a few comforters; i'd like to stay that way
but when you wake up, you still have to break the icicles that formed between us and i can't say i ever fell asleep