sitting in the cold empty apartment you broke into to have

sex with me. I’m watching you sleep, wrapped up in the sleeping

bag I brought to keep us warm,

grasping it as though it were your only protection,

your only comfort.

I am afraid to wake you.

you might not recognize me, remember who I am

though you’ve known me (slept with me) for months.

you say you love me.

I don’t know what this means.

you might hurt me if I wake you.

cold is better than pain.

1992