monksta

.... fresno....

this iceberg can seem to block
out the sun, cover up its eyes
with sheets and blinds
and blank out that room that you
snuggle in, each night
under layers, of clothes
and colors, and hands, and arms,
and mouths wrapped into one another,
shivering
from lips and smoke in the air,
and hearts that race
together in search of each other
skin fits skin in a puzzle,
and you can orgasm the best,
when hands hold you so firmly
together at night
darkened, in a room, covered by
covers and covers,
blanketed with snow against glass,
that the sun cannot penetrate through.