Sick in bed

When you said that should we never touch again

You would still come around

I was not so much surprised at this saying

But I stared amazed

At how much I believed

In you and in

This, and at how I had good reason to

As I leaned into you leaning

On the kitchen sink

Each little light on in your parents’ house

I recall nights the moonbeams hit

Your eyes just right

And made me want to seep into your bones

And I remember, too

Days you wiped my snot with your hand

And clutched me to your chest

I blubbered and scratched

And you cried I love you I love you Grace

You are an unmade bed

Tousled & still warm, and I

Fully intend to return to you