I find it hard
to get out of bed
when the sun 
beat me to it
and I can still
smell
your body in the sheets
and your breath
in the pillows

there’s a place set for you
right under the sternum
because it fits so well
because we fit so well

our skin speaking to another
through the inked colors
showing our real identity
reclaimed
after those that
misunderstood
of what we were
tore us down
into animals
left to survive
whatever madness
they brought

but lying in bed
with your memory smell
and what you look like
sleeping
that free opened mouthed
breath with those lashes
the shape of you
revealed here and there

laying here without 
you
I think
we’ve come a long way
and I know
both of us
are still 
a bit
feral