staircases were the worst
everything left to its own pace
i found comfort in your jean pockets
why so fast?
i mean, it was our usual
me, behind you.
the door was always closed when i got there
a simple twist and push brought me into heavy situations set up for years in our misinterpretation of what becoming one meant
we sucked at math
thanks for leaving it unlocked
there was that, at least
i was cautious, but continued the game peering the corner searching for more it was the sound of the door scraping the floor and then there it was
i was met with that vacant stare
a shake of your head and glance back down
were you surprised, or reminded?
the mail couldn’t of been that interesting
i walk by, open the fridge and grab a bite of yesterday
you click past, your motions splashed an anxious flash transferred and spun through to me.
we still pass forks and know who’s turn it is for dishes.
paper plates are piling up.
i’m not without a part
i didn’t take you up on your count to three race to the door
we did that years before
both panting at the top
taking turns being polite
you’d welcome with your stretched wide smile from both eyes
who cares about the piles of bills
take out drivers delivered our meals
time and ritual didn’t dictate when we found our sheets, it, also, wasn’t always in bed
nice and neat
moments of remembering turned to rip flip renderings of flesh seeking souls pressing passion filling the hole and completing this role, a goal, to reach down and know we’re whole
we were good then
i didn’t worry
and never had time to notice
the crumpled bandana
in your back right pocket