you leave me tethered, entwined in a spiral.
I shake your hand-
you say that the night is cold.
I wake in my bedroom, now.
I am alone, sleeping next to a cold pillow.
The days and nights are burning
with the putrid smell of rain,
my hand moves in front of my face,
the dog awakens next door.
She said, The cornflowers are growing!
To make conversation.
I agree halfheartedly, but I am not
That flesh is flesh, and words are words.