from love is a watched pot that never boils

creep
in a shadowy
dorm room

my lips meet teeth
because she smiles
when I kiss her

or, at least,
that’s how I picture it

her, smiling
with her hand on my chest
as I press

the skin of her palm
casts soft ripples
of lightning through my skin

then I find myself swimming
again
and again
in the rhythm of her hips and I
feel as though I’ve drowned,

but I’ve drowned
in solid air,
there is life in the sound of her footsteps,
little pockets of air,
found in the violence
of her swaying hair

the weight
of her shoulder
on my chest, the scent
on her nape would’ve be enough
without diamond eyes
cutting me to ribbons

but now, those eyes are gaping open.
mine are still closed,

when she pushes me back,
her smiling mouth is gone
and she’s
speaking,
shouting,
protesting,

my hands are stretched out,
not holding her,
not helping,
not calming her down.