once, i wanted you in every quiet way.
the drip of a faucet, the sparkle of shower water.
static electricity: a secret surge between fingertips,
something you smile through so seamlessly.
i wanted you curled up in sheets that smelled faintly
of my conditioner, my teenage diary propped up
on your lap, wide eyes scouring every page.
it stung in dreams: t-shirts and bare legs, a tangle
of limbs, casual and sleek. brushing our teeth, wet hair
and foamy mouths. the dances in the living room,
your hair glimmery, skin glowing in the january sun.
to be quiet, to seep slow, to creep beneath the sheets
and lie still. that was love, so simple, so stagnant.
Zoe Cunniffe is a poet and singer-songwriter from Washington, DC. She has previously been published in literary journals such as Velvet Fields, Trouvaille Review, Meniscus and The Showbear Family Circus, and she can be found on Instagram at @there.are.stillbeautifulthings.