when the cats play

you and I 

are cut of the same cloth

like water

running through the cracks

seeking out those places

that get no light

even still

as the doorbell

chimes for midnight

I jump

like the child

still scared of you

my hands

shaking on the lock

you shimmer

in the cold air

as false

as you not being there

I must be lucid dreaming

and you step inside

bringing the night with you

together we lift

the LP onto the deck

and watch it spin

round and around

the needle entering 

every groove

tossing the bassoon

up above our heads

I always loved the sin

just as much as the sinner

and so I reel you in

with fingers and tongue

pondering

what it feels like

to not be here

to have never have happened

moving around

between the lies

we reap the harvest-

years sowing 

the seeds of desire

see what a look 

can blossom into

you-

the skilled puppeteer

with your hand inside me

working my mouth

rolling words

into cherries

falling from branches

like lines in a play

later the smoke

spells out our deceit

upon the incoming dawn

sealed by lips

that ache

from their wrongdoings

betraying 

their owners

and so I wake the next day

the house untouched

everything

as it was before

only the dull ache

within me

your signature

etched into my flesh