The kitchen floor lit by moonlight
             our bare feet dancing in the cold.
     A space between us.

Love and open mouths, never saying the right thing.

You tell me, “Let’s keep our dinner down,
                    let’s talk the skin back on our arms,
                             let’s kiss each other’s hands.”

You should have said, “Let’s be like honey,
         let’s meet in heavy rain.”

I tell you, “There are dirty dishes in the sink.
          I am terrified of dying.
You have ruined me.”

I should have said, “Reach inside my purple body and bring out yellow.
           I must know you from somewhere,
   another life;
one that’s softer,
      maybe even kind.”