Your flesh is a hot towel from the dryer
when the heater is broken.
I wrap myself in you,
and you stick like steam to the bathroom mirror.
I brush my teeth late at night
looking into my own eyes,
asking myself
can I do this?
Am I able to be the man who you need?
Can I build memories in my
clavicles where the owl of my heart builds its’ nest?
I hold them dear to me,
Snoozing away the mornings
like the alarm clock on Monday.
The condensation from the
coffee pot in my room sizzles with its own wetness.
I left the window open again all night,
touching the carpet naked,
feet blue with cold,
trembling in the bright morning light
I feel nothing
but the hope of being wrapped
in your heat again.