yen

even bitter dark chocolate
wouldn't take to the double bed
where we were living in

breathing in all these humid heat
moments' embraces and muffled
words warming on the skin

and skies all ash-burnt caress
us with grace
chances
of listening
in to the harrowing
beat our bodies
in faint red memories

made out of the flow and ebb
of intuition for each other
and we'd sing
dreaming