can you hear me?

We make illegal turns
in bed covers saturated with citations
to avoid ourselves
as you slip in silently - slip into me
oh so subtly
in the dark.

if we act in cellophane, without sound
like falling trees in forests without beating hearts

then you and I
can play the part
satisfied in slumber
senses sighing softly
escaping within me
burying yourself above me

to groan and whimper in my womb
to shudder- in sleep
to avoid me - half-open
turning down a gaze on you....

I disappear
and shiver as you descend
as we bend our backs into crescent moons

settling into dreams
of half-truths and almosts

And As you fall

I lay--

silent tears

-soundless as our passion-

fall past mascara stains,unforgiven
to drip
to smear
lipstick on neatly pressed linen

and I wait
to escape after pancakes on your bar stools
and morning news

to back away
from habitual routines
seducing me
with the scent of you

And so I look away
as you fondle
sterile metal
and placate the inanimate
which seems so hollow and so simple

To leave.
To end.
To say I never stayed.

To say this does not exist
and you and I
are in a forest
without a soul
to see us fall