And between 19 and 40,
for tea will have changed me.
And turning from the invading light on my naked room,
my naked room.
Our coffee stains and dusty coughing.
You're always dressed and buttoned up.
And your hair pinned up in circles
worn like a widow to second the motion of second nature.
Like two rafts knotted and still where sound is lost and found.
But I fear its [bad word] back to me.
Under that threat of sky we lie together,
why care about the weather.
It only ends in dark.