You remind me of the sky after the rain.
A weak smile, pale skin, honesty.
The humidity rises as you sink next to me,
onto this couch, made of drunken nights.
We cross our legs, cross our fingers.
A draft pushes through the room.
Your hair drifts toward my shoulder, clings to me.
We whisper here,through the noise.
The place full of people, leaning our heads
in close is the only way to hear your words.
So busy playing pieces in this puzzle,
good at being apart of something more,
I forget that you are an enigma.
That in the morning you will disappear.
I come to fear I may be the land, and you,
you may be the sky.
Like clouds after a long rain,
we crawl beneath the covers.
Your skin is like hot pavement.
Your eye lids, like leaves, fall.
We both fear leaving this place,
this bed made of words and smiles.
We fear not seeing each other
more
than we fear falling in love with tonight.