I Had To Get To You

For some reason,
when the sunlight creeps in,
I find myself wondering
exactly how we got here,
to this season.

Perhaps it’s the way
that your eyes sway
between the dreams
that roll in front of your eyes
like distant scenes
of a time gone by.

It’s definitely not
the curious manner
in which you sought
my comfy banter—
if anything, it was you
that I had to get to.

Once we arrived,
we were greeted by the guise
of what could only be
the after image of the sky.
The faint starlight in your eye,
the reflection of you and I.

This ghost world of
future swirls, of faint
off-white splatters of paint,
most of it the color of
our apologies, our lust—
yet no sign of our trust.

Is this how it’s going to be?
Our lives together, untimely,
punctuated by the occasionally
satisfying fuck, the docile
“What is it that we need
from the grocery store?”

We’re used to pettiness.
It’s pretty so we don’t
see the mess.