your body's too hot.
my body's too warm,
i lie
listening to people 
giggle downstairs,
and in this darkness 
strangling us, humid
and cold and wet, 
we're mourning a
love not lost yet.

you hate my voice
and i hate your touch
kisses hollow on both
sides. different seasons
can be so hard to sallow
when you've tasted sun.
now its summer which is
winter in your room and
we're back to mourning 
a love that isn't lost yet.

its not nice on either side
because it feels like we're
failing, but it's just another
season, just another tide
and they shift and surge
and everything will be 
alright. we're mourning 
a love that is not yet lost,
and has forever to flourish