at first, touching you felt like the residue of lost love
i didnt eat for you
but i wanted to be next to you in every crowded room,
on every full sofa and under blankets with you,
sharing cigarettes, steadying it between your fingers and my mouth,
inhaling for this time alone
days later,
$40 on sushi, emptied plates twice, broken cars and crushed telephone poles and watching from the window at the weather threatening our night
thrifting jackets for friends, drive-thru mozzarella sticks
spin my coat on, spin into you
call the big bed, you aren't close enough to me
the shallow bit of your chest, the underside of the crest of your hip
holding and being held in my favorite place, "me too"
with my face in the bit of space in your back where your shoulders meet,
my mind is on our drive home,
feeling emptier and more alone in this crowded room of stumbling and dumb smiles - "why are you sitting on the floor", wine bottle propped between my knees, passing alex the cigarette and ash filled beer bottle, they're throwing cupcakes and breaking teeth - than ever when i'm alone or with you.
in our beds i still cant understand how perfectly you can hold me. and i can't believe how easy it all feels.