you were once you

is what I told you to dry our pillows once in February

because the moisture that once made our eyes heavy, now saturated the cloth womb responsible for our momentary reprieve because unmoving quilts were favorable to the cold investing our bedroom

because you needed it even though it wasn’t much a collapsed vein to a neglected limb

because the deviation had become too great because the bones still stood where they once did left without opportunity for abandonment

even though everything else had quit

we no longer laughed at the blood flowing from your fingertips even though it didn’t flow much anymore anyway

imagination always evolves to obligation love always evolves to complacency

some mornings you seemed like you but the eerie facade became apparent as the sand fell from our eyes

and all we wanted was the stagnation we sought to avoid

and we both would look at the ceiling wondering when the cold would stop being so cold