it scares me the way you say my name; it’s like you doodled in the margins. how did you just do that?

I could tell you what it’s like:   Warmth on your shoulders when there’s snow inside your mind. 

ripe, rancid, ridden with remorse for mistakes we never had power over.

wicked in the daylight,

bartering with shadows for space, we sleep together. we see it all coming, even though            “who knows what to expect?”