I am not over you yet.
My lazy morning fantasy
Consists of you and me and nothing in between
And we don’t have to wake up yet
But when we do we can stay under the covers
Weaving daydreams ‘round cloud colored sheets
Oh all the things we let ourselves believe
I tried, really.
Sometimes, it’s not enough
for us to see hands as mere
hands. Look at your palms:
maybe a map, maybe an island,
maybe a road halved into two
forks, where do I go? The lines
do not end on your skin.
I still try, really.
Here is the definition of space:
romance. Another: skin on skin,
lip on lip, breath upon another
layer of breath, you & I. Maybe,
there is nothing else to learn
but to unlearn what has been
learned. Because I want to forget.