sweet tooth

Your cologne seeps 

from your sheets 

into each of my shirts

cork the carafe, keep preserved 

earbuds in at 3:00 am, 

                  I’m building up the nerve 

to rest my head between 

your back’s peaks

and curves, 

—but my muscles tense when I touch you, 

scared that you’ll suddenly wake

startled 

and staring at me strange.

As you lay snoring, 

I want to be brave, 

kiss your forehead,

stake my claim, 

but I think I might be too afraid 

of lining my lip in chocolate, 

crumbs across the counter, 

a kid caught, 

hand in the cookie jar.