marriage: a study

it’s always at night
the whirring fan
the sweat of a too hot day under too hot sheets
all that closeness
that exposes all that vastness
between who i am
and who are you
my closet renegade
my faraway bedfellow
the thundering sundering silence between us
suffocates me
while you sleep unflinching
unaware of the many faces
of the spaces between us
the labyrinth of looks and breaths
that we’ve constructed over the years
brick by ancient brick
but all that slaving
has blurred the lines between us
the bits of me
rubbed off on you
compelling me to stay
to reach across the crumpled chasm
and tangle my limbs in yours.


-Kirsten Krymusa

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