fighting

it's cold in the blue truck
on the dark streets
with the hot tears
falling on a sleeve that
isn't yours

and your breath
like smoke
blasting frozen air with silence
while lungs
are screaming
of how they
hate to need my
love. . .

so when our hands
make their
way
through
heavy night,
to rest together
on the leather
seat

and mouths have hushed
the dagger thrusts
at tender trust

it's then we must
remember what
a gift

forgiveness is