you’re the last sip of blackberry wine
before I turn in for the night:
selfish and languishing as I am
I’m not running out of time
but breath in my lungs
it keeps getting pulled out by your gentle touch
on the wood of my porch
in the morning the trees
and gray sky will bear down on me
so sit with me a little longer
tell me your stories again
our bodies were not built to endure
but to fall apart, piece
by piece
forming the dirt underneath
if I could only break the window between us
and fully place myself in your hands
I wouldn’t have to settle for sips of wine
between words