“i wish we could press fingertips together.
you lie so far away on this bed.
it would make it more real in the long run.”
you can brush you hair back and pretend this isn’t happening.
“what about god?” you asked.
“yeah, what about him?”
“i could rip the smile right off your face,” she says. “i could rip it off and no one would be any wiser.”
“i forgot about you and what it means
to grab your hips and mash our mouths
in something resembling a kiss.”
he pauses, turns his head away and sighs.
“you look more like a fistfight in this light.”
“laundry day is my favorite day.”
“don’t let the house get too clean, now.”
“you’re warm, you’re golden.”
and how you always left tea rings on the inside of your bible
and called it getting closer to god or anyone who was watching.
