Our Fish May be Dead but There's Hope for us Yet

You with your cigarettes
The smoke winds unto my lungs
like you have
Slowly filling every part
Until there is no room for air

You with your tweed exterior
Small blue and green squares
The four corners
Photographed on the back of my skull
They wallpaper the curves of brainy memory

You with your boy next door smile
Yours eyes whispering something frivolous
Your toffee skin
It runs along you, an accessory to your insides

You with your delicious dancing
Spiralling around my living room
Your wild moves
They have planted themselves inside me
You, who is still there when I open my eyes.
You, with your me.

I am a simple creation
But I am yours.