Legs twined. Our fingers climbed each other through the night.
Scarves undone.
My locks tangled yours
Little brown vines.
Inhale the moment
Before memory wakes us –
We are supposed to be angry
About something
Inconsequential.
We use eggshelled silence
To mask the sleep in our step.
Courteous and unremarkable
We play at passive anger
Feeding a tired ego.
Nonsequitor,
our lips reach one another.
Love is forever in the creases.