For you, one day

by Anonymous

When I dream of what it’ll be like, 

it's not love making on plush beds at the four seasons 

or tempered chat over Michelin star platters that really would be just as good at that little Thai place below your shoe box 

or straight out of the ramen splattered pot we ate from the night it all suddenly made sense

No,

When my imagination runs and my heart yearns for what it’ll feel like, I envision tear stains of laughter on the shitty futon that we’ve made our haven 

and slow salsas clad in oversized cotton that 

smells of your solace

one a.m. and i want you

by Anonymous

not because i do. because

my upstairs neighbor is ill and

wearing combat boots and pacing

to the bathroom and back and

forth and back, her coughs rattle

my window and remind me of

the last phone call i had with

my granny, pre-ventilator death.

if i could be in your arms they would

make someplace else to be. if the

footsteps in my dreams fell in time

with the soft ocean undulations of

your chest beneath my ear i would

not be happy because i was in your

room, but because i was in your room,

with quiet sickness and silent ceilings.