like
maybe
we used to just be together in a room and alone and that was enough?
like maybe the white of the sheets or the white of the walls or the white of the daylight in the morning could keep us stark enough and make us sane, could keep us clean enough from the outside world.

but there is always family to compete with, always neighbors and friends and coworkers and all with their two cents.
who am i to be ashamed of what my love is? who am i not to be?


oh you beg the question.
oh my slivered cliche.
i would that you were here now to split me open and make me bleed.