End of October
I lay in your bed, again,
my eyes lined and brightly
shaded by your makeup,
our costumes always our true selves.
I was aware of what you wanted.
But I was afraid:
afraid that you were too drunk and
coked up. You lay next to me,
touching yourself while I fell asleep.
You loved me, then,
more than I allowed myself to know.
When morning came, we left
your apartment, together.
You held my arm.
The steps were covered in ice just
below the snow.