for the tender
Love, longing, and the people we can't put down — tender and aching.
It's 2am and the goodnight is still in the box. We've been talking a week and I don't want to send it first.
The Sunday crossword is still under the fruit bowl. We stopped at fourteen across. I keep buying bananas so I never have to move the paper.
Almost three, you've taken the whole blanket again, and I'm lying in the warm part of the dark listening to you breathe.
A short note about the hallway light at 3am.