Exploring the Art of Loving Better

Everyone else has left and we had.

to practice some more

and I desperately want to taste your lips.

tonight, and tonight and tonight.

when it comes to surrender

no one has to be on opposite sides but

something has to be given up.

and I’m ready to give up sleep.

to feel.

I think I love you better.

in words when I’m looking down

at the two of us

in that ancient bed in the old

apartment, black radiator buzzing

in early Spring and the people downstairs

trying to be as loud as we were

but probably with less tequila

than we had, reading through the play.

You open your mouth and the words.

that come out are mine.

and did I orchestrate this, write you into?

touch after all the dreaming I did, unable to hear.

between the lines or go and fix the

dreams themselves?

But you’re golden, you’re magnificent.

and I’m getting the feel for your skin.

and the rhythm of the pages

keeps arcing through the whole night.

while arms try to do what mouths

can do.

In the end you stayed long enough to

have brought daylight.

around and we hadn’t slept, spent all night.

reciting my words as love tried

to happen between us; but then, all these

years later, I wonder if we were even.

able to try.