I think youth envied us
Suspended between love and desperation,
In between the gin and the haze and the tiled floors –
I cried that night, and you were gone
I was weak, but there was security in your shoulder
Fragile, with strength in your hand.
In the evening we went home and wrote poetry on our backs
Tracing delusions with soft fingertips
Whispering white lies as if somebody could hear us
Dark hair cascading over leather
A shirt collar, brushing against the chin
And if we were lost, there was refuge in sleep.
Curled up by your side I shiver,
Tenderness burning through slowed breath.