I watch your skin breathe
pain tells us we need a change
I think if you were awake you’d be kissing me senseless
but you aren’t and I can’t close my eyes until yours open
frightening how loud the silence is here
maybe if I go home and sleep this will all look different
but home smells stale without you
I don’t make pancakes or coffee or sit down and relax on ordinary Tuesday
mornings like you do
I don’t get the dogs all loud and excited at 5am
we just sleep lazy until the sun punches us in the gut for staying still too long
there have been moments like this before
moments where I feel like everything is about to turn in big blinding colors sentences
punctuated with satisfaction
until they aren’t
before our pupils shifted as they met
galaxy exploding
everything feels too real and too fake
but more than that
everything is here
functioning without effort
in and out
take and give
too much
seeing you here
motion involuntary
and yet
still
naturally you
Samantha Albala is a Boulder-based poet, gobbling up horizons and babbling about road trips, tea and anatomical hearts. See more writing at samanthaalbala.contently.com
