pupils swelling in pulses, 

camera apertures fidgeting with 

the light’s fishline strings

so that we can see each other wholly. 

.

the tea is still sitting, wafting bergamot 

that laces our bare skin with its cooling memory,

sealed with fingers tracing yesterday’s sore,

no longer a worry keeping our jaws clenched.

the rest of the world waves gingerly. 

.

lying on your chest: 77 bpm. 

take a deep breath in: 63.

a resilient drum, a lulling

slush pushing warm blood through buried veins,

carrying life to our minds and to my lungs

to breathe you in slower.

.

blushing in anticipation for the moment 

our gazes level again,

when they finally do, you ask what?

.

nothing. nothing at all

(12/13/20)