Julia

Wind hush,bog splashed ruin, where is self besides the night, a simple wakening to love, then the breath rushes, like an Arctic skite, other times a jungle crush, we wrap ourselves in covers, under fear of dying, orange trees leaves whisper, sooth a city's muffled din, a snuffled dry exercise, more than her shuddered sin, how different this dark room, to other imaginary fights, my partner says we're doomed, other bars, twilight, rain gloom, she bites me, i ask her why, she sniffs and hums a tune, says I’m stupid to lie.