Best Man

Lungs moaning a sweetness with a hack,

A rueful rasp and a nestling press, combined

Make me wilt.

I am so exhausted.

Doting on me even when

I can't be silent,

You never say shut up

But you hit a double bull.

Solemnly drunk,

Calmed as you rub my back, and

It feels nice, it feels too close.

We laugh so good and deep

At each other, with each other, and

We shake heads because there are no words.

I make you smile with lox and bagel voices as

You make me sneer with that same damn string joke.

Once the night becomes bleary with too many faces

To count or comprehend, we sway and stumble to

The closest bed, entwined like kids at a slumber party,

Yet heavy with need and simmering with temptation.

See your green morning breath,

Watch your fingers clumsily grasp for smokes,

And know that I'm almost in love with you...

My unrivaled, one and only almost.

Like running your thumb against the ridges of a lighter

Until it bleeds or forms a callus;

Never enough to light a smoke.