let’s talk about it. let’s sit and talk and wish and dream and think and sing and scream. let’s stay this way forever, with your head in my lap and your fingers mixed up in mine.
we’ve worked our way deep into the fibers of this place. there is no me here anymore, even in the furniture that’s accompanied me from place to place for years. my things have reconsidered themselves, have adjusted to fit our new surroundings, have relaxed into their new role as Our Things.
play me a song, baby. one of your own. i’ll fill in when you get too tired—i know the words, each syllable, like the backs of my hands.
watch your back, baby. someone could come in at any moment and shatter the quiet of this sentence, of your next breath. you’re strumming the same refrain over and over from upside down and somehow i’m certain i could pick up the guitar and play it exactly as you’ve intended it.
i’m feeling fuzzy tonight. i’m distracted by the sounds coming through the walls. i’m waiting for you to come home.