ethicality

 “Is love ethical?” 

I ask her, in the kind of dream where 

my head rests on her chest, 

and the room feels like a held breath– 

warmth I can wrap myself in, 

fold into a blanket and pretend it’s real.

 “No,” she’d whisper, and I know.

 It isn’t ethical– 

to touch you in ways 

you'd never let me while awake, 

to steal a kiss from lips 

that never called me home, 

to hold you just long enough 

for the world to forget I was never yours.

 But I do it anyway–

 i was never a good enough 

 person, good enough for you–

 And when I wake, 

I leave the dream gently, 

like a thief, quiet, 

trembling, 

 shaking like a leaf 

still tasting your name 

on the edge of my mouth.

( ill write it down hastilly, 

 swear to remember 

 but ill forget anyway)