I am too tired
To count the words
I meant
On my fingers

Instead
I will lean across the bed
To you
Where you are staring
Blankly
At the white wall

And you will cup my chin
Absently
As you light the cigarette
Hanging
From my
Red lips

Your grey eyes
Will stay there
Like the smoke
I breathe into the sky

And it won't be enough
To write
Or sleep
Or make your version
Of love

But it will be okay
Like you say

Because having enough
Is never enough

Anyway

i fell in love
one night

in April
i think

with the illusion
your words painted

on the skin
of my closed eyes

forever
isn't the eternity

we were brought up
to believe

in

it ends
for the butterfly
faster
and for the blossoms
that land in your hair
sooner