Pleasure Ridden

She chills me when i'm warm

I moderate reactions

Its nice to belong

And not be swayed by false elation

She makes me desire loneliness

And yet i go to meet her

My days punctuated by cold

And my night autumnal deaths

Tentative

Everything's been said

Except for bits of untruth

That linger between us

Despite our fillers

Like specs of dirt

You haven't even told me

Your name

Did We?

Conversations where

We speak about

Things we are not

Actually speaking

About, things we are not

Treading on eggshells

Half leaning in

Half staring out the window

Some need

And some forced ambivalence

The road curves ahead

We say all the right things

And still we go home and cleanse ourselves

Wondering.