upper cave
Idea of the poem was inspired by finding out that the song "killing me" by conan gray is about him catching tonsillitis after (ex) his lover kissed him
=)
You laughed into my shoulder,
voice rough, sleep still heavy on your tongue.
“I think I’m getting sick,” you said,
and I only hummed
your hand tracing slow down my spine
like a river finding its old path again
Snd who believes in consequence before breakfast anyway?
The morning was all half light and rain smell,
the kind that tastes like iron and lilac
You opened the window,
and the wind leaned in through the curtains,
fingers through our hair,
touching everything we’d yet to claim
the cups, the sheets, the quiet air
still soft from dreams.
You kissed me,
and the house seemed to breathe with us —
floorboards creaking like old wood learning to sing.
Somewhere a sparrow startled,
the kettle hissed its small approval.
Your breath was citrus and sleep,
and I caught the faint rot of overripe sweetness,
the way life turns tender before it spoils.
By noon, the sun crawled to the bed,
and I felt the slow settling of it;
warmth heavy in my throat,
your pulse stitched into the air I swallowed.
I thought then; if consequence exists,
let it come quiet,
like moss over stone.
You left in the evening,
your jacket damp, your voice still honeyed with cough.
The room folded back into itself
the smell of you caught between the curtains.
Outside, the streetlights opened like bruises,
their light spilling slow across the pavement.
By night, I was half-laughing, half-cursed,
nose running, chest aching —
some small inheritance of your warmth.
I stood by the kettle,
watched it take its time to sing again,
and thought
maybe this is what it means;
to love and to fall ill by the same hand,
to trade breath until the air remembers us both
median tangle
hard rivet