It starts again, breath tangled in between
the sheets, my hand in yours feels
awkward, and paleness of the skin
along the knuckles is entwined
with metal. My bedroom window
stained by remnants of the apple
tree in bloom. Draw back the curtain -
stare greedily into the night and catch
its icy breath on the edge
of the sill spread out
the air that grew unsteady
in between your palms
and fall.
|
Submission Name: Going to Bed
