there’s cobwebs

on your side of the bed.

not the same bed,

across state lines

in a town by the coast

where no one knows our names.

I am afraid to disturb them,

to make a space as unfillable 

as the miles between my window

and the haunting moon.

I am afraid most days,

as memory slides into silk shadows

lurking on the edges of rest

like cobwebs

on your side

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to pass you by is to long

for you close, lips sweet despite her

claim’s acrid taste. you wave.

your wandering hand runs up my thigh like

vines cling to ancient stone structures.

we make a sick picture, half-past-drunk

on years of tension, crushed

between mouths and confession in the dark.

you look at me as though

i might not run laps around the room

in hopes of catchi...

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promise me, darling,

when you’ve moved out and moved on

when this endless summer

becomes a misty-edged memory,

promise that you won’t forget me.

fall into an easy love with some girl

who deserves you more than i ever could,

but promise when you look in her eyes

that sometimes you’ll see a glimmer

of me in her, and you’ll wonder

what i look like now, what i’m doing,

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