Falling deep into the evening,
on a diet of broken sleep and bananas,
and a bed of broken springs and jokes.

Chips crumble on pillows,
falling from my hair,
embedding themselves in my thermal socks.

We played accordion songs
and strummed your four-and-a-half string,
left-handed bass,
and sang until we couldn't.

There was wine and what we called music,
and we tripped on your unlimited roller blades
every time we went to the bathroom.

I discovered that your light switch
was an inch higher than mine,
as I spent a good while trying to reach it,
casually,
with my elbow,
on the way in.

A night and a day,
and another two,
living in your family home,
because mine was out of bounds.
I saw your heart and it was golden.

Time has extended.
Things have changed.
I hope you haven't.

I've been meaning to write.