#proverbs 30:23

tequila dripping down my neck

peppered with salt.

help me feel something of myself,

you in relation to me.

gulps of harder-to-talk-these-days,

and satiated in the hearth of

letting the words fall out.

hard and clean,

shattered just exactly right.

how we are not supposed to be.

is this vulnerability?

i told you mostly,

i shook well.

you listened,

each little piece,

every little breath of air.

reaching out in the darkness.

when it was too late to recover,

you swam through the sheets.

tired of trying,

waking up alone,

sweaty palms and empty arms,

to hold me home.

the paradox of our story.

i needed to be touched so badly

it hurt.

it haunts the memory,

of you of me.

upon waking:

the tucks came undone

without unraveling the bond,

the pillows lie motionless

abused,

in the floor.

they heard me

slump over quietly in the night,

beside your body,

lying open with unclenched

hands.

offering

the silent sobriety

of wasted efforts.

I didn’t know you moved

and then tenderly found

the saving grace of

two arms