It is half past one, and you
are more restless than I, when
this day had started, when
you and I met.
The air that parts the window from the curtain, is
colder than I guessed, and now
I fear that I might freeze to death.
And so I move, towards
the closest thing for warmth, and
I find you, wrestling for sleep.
So, I kiss you, gently on your cheeks
And it’s wet now, colder than the rest of you
But there are other things to worry about
Because the gentle peck on your cheek
Wouldn’t even be there, when you wake up.
A message, disappearing, before anyone reads it.
There is much else to be worried about
Like, the coldness, in between you and me
and beneath all of us.