earn it.

i suppose
i am queen
of the two page ode
to your handslipseyeships,
the way that my hands fit
in that hollow
at the small of your back,
how i have felt no want much purer
than that
of you next to me
holding your cigarette out the window
mouthing the words to some stupid song
on the radio.

but.

there is one way
i love you more and less-
those nights when we
try to sleep in different beds,
our hands crawling to bridge the gap
between our bodies,
pulling at the edges of reason-
reasons to stay where we are.

those nights are
science
vs.
romance.