In the Heat - Hermit House

"In the Heat"
by Erin Doubenmier
the sun creeps in through your window
and says nothing
you don't ask where it's been all night
you writhe in the heat of my arms
to what degree should I hold you?
you can hear the ocean in your beer can
don't you know your name
is written on the walls inside her veins?
you writhe in the heat of my arms
to what degree should I hold you?
maybe we should wait until
we stop pretending to be waiting
shrink your words back to a murmur
toss this away, and pretend it's trash
held it carefully, and it's trash
just trash