colabo.

I stole your poem instead of sleeping (don't be mad).

I loved the way you said my name
like it really meant "to behold";
I loved the way you held my waist
like I was one of the dolls your mother collected;
I loved the way you spoke those sentences
like you’d glued puzzle pieces together, forcing them to fit.

and no matter how much I tried,
you already knew the emergency exits
were directly to the left and the right.

I still love the only feeling that lingers:
the feeling of being trapped in us.

another night to dream and maybe feel
you speak my name from your lips, feel
you wrap your arms around my skinny hips, feel
you stumble to find the right thing to say, feel
you and I together.

colabo: ian and jessica!