like a mantra against my exposed sin; I guess
I deserve this. I remember Halloween’s storming,
the fear I felt then, how it haunts me like an old
compatriot—I tell it I no longer care, I want
this now, the warmth of shared fabric, the respite from
rain. What else can I do but surrender? What else
can I do but rest in the comfort of all those things
you said you’d never do?