the night after new years eve
we wash our hair in a dirty stainless steel sink and light candles
(the power went out again) and there's something vaguely romantic about
the glow reflected in the mirror and the room is somehow brighter for it.
he flicks a lighter on and off in the dim light and laughs as the metal
grows hotter and begins to burn at his thumb with a tickling sting.
my hair leaks water into my t-shirt and i twirl it around my fingers,
breathing in the smell of melting wax and fresh shampoo.
the apartment's one room but it feels like a home to me and so i lay
next to him in bed and listen to the sound of his gentle snores as cars
outside rev their engines and i wonder how this is the only boy i
ever feel romantic with, the only boy i can love without lust.
he rinses out my shampoo in the dirty stainless steel sink and water
spills onto the un-vacuumed carpet but his fingers make me feel at home.