I used to think the chill in the air pulled at my lungs
and brought out the shivers
but we are warm and tangled,
this blanket is more than enough
and my chest is still icy
when you touch me like that.
if you are here it means I am moving,
I can’t sit still when you keep slipping,
please stay no matter how your temperature rises,
we have a cave to mold our secrets.
yesterday there were
bad decisions shoved under the welcome mat,
today I have unrolled them and swallowed the key,
we can’t get back in,
we are unknown.
you move one hand
up and I disintegrate,
it’s all I can do not to lean back and break down.
you move one hand
to mine and I am collapsing,
somehow you can love me with just your fingertips.
The Welcome Mat
A fine place to begin a poem. I am always amazed by the admixture of images and how they are glued together so nicely in love poems with a subtle twist, a raised brow, an unanswered question. Neato style - allets -