i will stay so close

that my prayers
are a whisper

in His ear

i will stay so still
that i hear

when your
breath changes

i'll watch the sheet
on the line tremble

as if in wind
and know

your lungs
are full of air

again

Surfeit, Respite

You think you're such a creature of habit, but now that you've stocked up on the hand soap
you loved so much, don't you feel a little bit trapped? A little bit like you didn't mean it when
you said "love"?

Perhaps it's better to let some things die on the vine. That way, they don't become hangovers.

Lying on the bathroom floor and then throwing up three times the next day, that was all just a metaphor.

There's something about clean sheets and lying in them alone that you can't quite give up, not yet, no matter how much you "love" the hand soap, or his jaw line, or the way his skin smells after hours
of working your body.