Blah blah blah

Asleep with skin under cloth, fabric laid
atop us like cadavers on the examination table,
we exhale our pasts into the night, thick breath
carrying who we were into the dark.
You hold your body against mine, even now
becoming someone you have not been, endlessly
moving away. And I touch you, my body reaching
from its now toward who you are no longer, hoping
to keep you as you were, trying to stall the change.
We lay, covered by sheets, each moment a funeral,
each exhale a tiny death, and we yearn
for what was as we shiver against the cold.