Life is my interruption.
It’s a resting point,
a distraction from moments
beneath warm blankets.

Our faces are twisted images of passion
in the mirror.

The tree I invent
outside your bedroom window
casts a shadow on the carpeted floor.

Your fingers are swallowed
as we whither and kiss.

Against the white door,
you breath in my ear
as you slowly kill me.

Your hand on my shoulder
provides comfort
from an unknown fear.

I desperately cling
to these moments
that don’t exist,
I wish to sleep forever
just to dream of your face.