Twenty-foot branches
soft with pink blossoms
Like a kiss on the cheek in the morning
while I pretend to be asleep

Sleeping alone in the kitchen
White porcelain skin
Glassy in the the breaking light

Cold against my fingertips
She moans and shivers awake
I warm her from the inside out
With my lips to hers
She returns the favor

We sit silently
Listening to the sparrows and the mist
And she empties herself for me
Just so I can fill her up again