THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
I lean in closer:
You smell good,
like cigarettes
and sweat
and alcohol
My hands find you even though they're not supposed to, this not how we're supposed to be
You already drew the lines between us
But you sit close and I rest my hand on your shoulder, on your back, I touch your arm and your hand and your thigh
I put my fingers in your hair, I brush the ash off your coat, smooth out your suit
This is new, this need to touch you to be close
I used to be better, I used to be good at this- now, I need you near me, I need you physically