I was feeling so burnt until you came,
now I start to fill with liquid again.
how do you return to blow up old lungs.
why is it we seem to be leaning in.
I’m trying not to read what you just wrote,
invisible underneath a wet tongue.
Even when you’re pulled tight against my hips-
I almost wish, with guilt, that you’ll never end.
What has carried us back to the same stream,
and why do you glisten new and unforgiving.
How does this happen to two of our kind.
What sentence pulls us together through time.
well if it doesn’t pan out we can always
float to the bottom and turn a few times.
just to get a foot down on the floor
of some designed and weathered parquet.
open a small fridge from a small corner
and stare at the essentials hardening there.
you seem to know a skills based life,
a needle in the correct position to give a
deserted body the rain it needs to start