A shadow breaks
and with it comes the lick
of your breath-
Guatemala and cigarettes;
5am never suited you.

And through the window
comes a ray of light, chiseling
each detail of you into
focus.
You, by the bath water
without any words.

I, tongue in cheek
fix roses upon the sill
still dry from Winter's whoring.
I was happier when you lived behind
bars of make-believe.

You show your teeth, and I try to
pretend that you have a beautiful smile.
Your body like art, waiting
in luke-warm bath water.
I swallow hard and bite my tongue.

I nibble your ear, suck your neck and
work
my
way
down.

You're beautiful, I'm not, and
with the parting of your
perfectly misshapen lips,
I catch you
in my mouth.

Your muscles disassemble,
a puzzle, undone:
taken
solved
and unsolved again.

I leave you in your puddle of nonchalance
(coffee, cold bathwater, nicotine ghosts)
run my hands through my hair
and wipe your secret on the back
pocket of my jeans.

I make sure I close the door quietly on my way out.