the air is not quite winter-cold
but the wind cries names
into my open window
- interrupts my nights
she knows
- the wind -
the liminal stillness of a dark room
and a warm bed
when words are not quite
words spoken
meaning explained away
with a smile and a laugh
and a promise of rationality
in the morning
she whispers
soft raised skin against my sheets
when the warmth of the room
comes from the sound of you
and a flicker of light
on a cellphone screen
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 12:55 AM UTC
the air is not quite winter-cold
but the wind cries names
into my open window
- interrupts my nights
she knows
- the wind -
the liminal stillness of a dark room
and a warm bed
when words are not quite
words spoken
meaning explained away
with a smile and a laugh
and a promise of rationality
in the morning
she whispers
soft raised skin against my sheets
when the warmth of the room
comes from the sound of you
and a flicker of light
on a cellphone screen
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