End of October

I lay in your bed, again,
curled up,
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.