Kill-me grey clouds billowed
Past our kitchen window.
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.
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.