Morning After

She curls into a ball like a cat,
lips hook into a smile.
Corners of her mouth are
deserts from dancing with his lips
all night. Ah, all that sunshine,
administered at once...

Cracks in the ceiling
watch as she tries to
peel the sky, the layers
of lust: the simulation of...
love, to wrap herself
in its clouds bursting
with appetite.

Her eyes blink,
he is sleeping still,
traveling through a tunnel
of love equations
protesting. She tickles his heart
and he smiles, like a refugee
on a new pillow.

He is clever.
He drilled through walls
and broke into her
heart: a hotel for convicts.
He unbuttoned her skin,
and crawled under it.

Her eyelashes flap
through expired
moments, a warehouse
of thoughts dances
in muddy puddles.