Sobbing Bed

I have a passing fancy to remember who she is,
and we kiss again
Seven minutes since she turned from the closed door
"Have you ever slept on a train?" she says
She cracks the fridge; she takes an apple
Her hands caught in her sleeves
She makes it all look so smooth
Looks up through a grille of lashes
Her apologetic smirk curls in the soft dark of the room
One season so far
and half a bed
One season
so far
One sobbing bed
I have a passing fancy, though I haven't said a word,
to remember who you are
Then, tilting my face and speaking hushed:
"I'll pretend that you didn't go too far.
Can I hold you?" I question aloud
I step away from the counter
The apple hits the floor
and rolls to rest at our feet
by the carpet
Her chin on my shoulder
"Did the apartment miss me?" (with a smile)
"Yes. The bed cried every night"
"And the pillow?"
"I held it close for hours,
and it shook and burned at my face
shook and burned at my face."

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