"I found my lipstick in the corner of your mouthAnd chased it halfway down your spine.You were..."

“I found my lipstick in the corner of your mouth

And chased it halfway down your spine.

You were always bad at waltzes

And my feet only knew two things:

How to keep time,

And how to walk away.

I didn’t mean to spend so long counting.

But the bend in your spine

Looked just like the valley

From my favorite painting,

By an artist whose name I can’t remember.

And there, nestled against the curve of your skeleton:

That was where I wanted

To build a house

And make a home.

So if my heart dropped out of my mouth,

Or my hands forgot themselves around you,

It was only because I was imagining the way

You would kiss my neck while I poured my coffee

Or the way

I never wanted a picket fence kind of life

Until I met you.

If I put distance between

My heart and your mouth,

It’s only because my ribcage was busy putting down roots

Along the dip of your spine.

If I seemed nervous, or worried, or cripplingly afraid—

I was.”

- Why We Didn’t Work Out, by Ashe Vernon