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Kill-me grey clouds billowed
Past our kitchen window.
Jammed open
Jammed-up without enough slack
To come back down.
Smokesleepily, take a drag-me-out-of-bed.
I was folded tight and neat that night
And slept sound-on-mute
Waking two medium sized cracked open eyes
To your broken-eggshell address:

‘It would be good to go out today-

Pulled stockings had fallen.
That Feline sound padded
Towards our bodies’ warmth.
That wilder one cascades,
Sending machine-gun water droplets
Past our heads,
To sit upon our pillows, for a moment—
Before they sank beneath the surface
Settling themselves, into soft warm core.

‘We should make the most of our time-

Snow brushed from the air
Shuddered down on slab-paths.
Singing sounds, electrified and transferred,
Fly from our wooden music boxes.
Suddenly free.
I lie here, morning comes and goes
Wherever we are, however I sit,
However I try to wake.
Nothing is wasted on you.

‘I woke feeling like this, feeling happy…

There is no back wall to this

I cannot find it.