you were once you

is what I told you to dry our pillows once in February because the moisture that once made our eyes heavy, now saturated the cloth womb responsible for our momentary reprieve because unmoving quilts were favorable to the cold investing our bedroom because you needed it even though it wasn’t much a collapsed vein to a neglected limb because the deviation had become too great because the bones still stood where they once did left without opportunity for abandonment even though everything else had quit we no longer laughed at the blood flowing from your fingertips even though it didn’t flow much anymore anyway imagination always evolves to obligation love always evolves to complacency some mornings you seemed like you but the eerie facade became apparent as the sand fell from our eyes and all we wanted was the stagnation we sought to avoid and we both would look at the ceiling wondering when the cold would stop being so cold