Even the messed-up bed doesn’t bother us.
Our bodies are in sync,
The slow dances,
On the kitchen floor,
The medallion light from the ceiling, which was indeed overloaded,
and so much more.
Soaking the tiredness,
Your head on my belly, my hands on your face,
On your lips,
As if bleeding the stardust which made me,
Pasta in white sauce,