i don't want to drift metaphorically
into a deadlock. i want to scrape my nails
across your sweaty back without hoping
someone walks in on it.

you sleep heavily with
an arm around my waist.
your scraggly hair kisses my neck
each time the fan oscillates.
the sensation tightens in the small of my back,
your other hand pressed against the curve.
you want this so badly.

if i could fall into a half-assed love
with someone less complicated and deservedly gracious
i would likely breathe better, sleep longer nights
and lock myself in fewer bathrooms.

if i look at you right now
you might see it. i have to stay here,
pretending to sleep while you
run circles over my ribcage and dig a long finger
into my panties.
i let it get ahold of me, eventually.
i get lost in the darkness and the swelling, circular motion of
this not particularly glamorous dance.

when my eyes dim to half-mast
i pretend that we are sure of ourselves,
and happy. and his arms clinging to me
are the coat of arms clinging to this lie
that we
are happy.

09/04/2010

Posted on 09/05/2010
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