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Curves Over Words
She wouldn't be my warmth that night,
or most nights in between.
She couldn't see my face to feel
the nerves that sing beneath.
She'd heard about the pills I take
and told me they were good
as long as they could keep me here,
above the coffer wood.
She'd said some things I can't recall,
about an older how and why;
the logic that had prevailed before
when we'd care to try.
She wanted us to be all right
and share our words within,
but I could not be bothered to
connect without her skin.
Now I sit here wondering
of the ends to which I march.
Will they leave me satisfied,
or fearful in the dark.
She told me that I'm stronger than
the man I tend to see;
that I had fought and bested that
which sought to conquer me.
She said that she admired such-
she says I'm just like new.
But I hadn't heard so many things,
while watching as she moved.
