Cars turning out of the vineyards at midnight, casting thin flashes on the bathroom wall,

tires on wet gravel again and again. Frogs overjoyed in water, drops falling on the metal roof, wind

rustling sunrise against the windows. Smoke kissed me, laughing, memories

high on our sentences, worded from sincerity

come tones of flirtation by childhood paths. You let everything

stay, the dead and ridiculous I brought with me. No matter where I am

sleeping, he finds my dreams, watching me apologize, trying his

illusory hands around my unreal waist. I left

my willingness to love in his lap one evening, without his permission, folded

up my heart to keep it clean, dry, no more running through

the rain with desire all over my clothes. I came for the yellow square of light, just visible

in the storm, accidentally and hoping. From that room, we cast a long shadow – thrown

over my face, stifling and warm, I wear it out for evenings best kept

at a distance. When I let you (or it is

you letting me) come close, it is always some tenderness outside

of love, some trust gained by surprise – without warning, without saying

goodbye. Seen and disarmed, waking up in the middle of the portrait.