I drape my skin over your skin,
like an afghan I let my limbs
fall limp and heavy on your chest
and I sleep with my lips
nestled firmly into your neck.
but I wake up empty
wrapped in empty sheets,
that half of the bed empty
like the rotten pit
of a peach. I am the spilled
seeds of a plush pomegranate
flushed the color of fever
blood, bleeding out
out
out. I am
all chapped lips
and sleeping alone.

[ every time I catch up, I fall back behind. poo. ]