It’s cold on the sofa until you squeeze in between me and the cushions. From the arm, you take a blanket and drape it over us. We’re snug. Your press your cold feet into me until they’re warm again. You kiss the bristles on my cheek. All I want to do is hold this moment. A delivery boy could hold down the buzzer with hot pizza and I’d leave him in the rain; I’m not moving an inch. We fit together. We’re puzzle pieces, but the picture isn’t complete. We start to twist and turn and contort trying to get comfortable, but the pieces don’t seem to fit like they did before. I could just hold them together here, in place, it doesn’t need to make sense. It doesn’t need to be perfect. Get some tape, stick us down. Draw over me, make me whoever you need me to be. Let’s just pretend, just for today, just one more time.
It’s too cold on the sofa. Run a bath and make it burn. Let my reddened skin forget your touch. Drop me in it like a plug and leave me to simmer. I fit here, by myself, all alone until the water cools and the cold air pinches. From the side, I take a towel and drape it over me. I’m bleak. I press my cold feet into the rug until they’re dry again. I trim the whiskers on my cheek. This is just another moment to get by. I’ve idle hands and itchy feet, I pace and lay and pace and stare. If I didn’t belong there, do I belong anywhere? The sofa isn’t comfortable, the shows are static, the books are empty. My pages are blank, I’ve no will to write. I’ve got to write something, right now, it doesn’t need to make sense. It doesn’t need to be perfect. Get some paper, write it down. Copy these words, rewrite that, find whoever I am meant to be. Just for today, just one more time, I’ll just pretend.
