Like stubble on shaven genitalia
take the rough with the smooth
in those simple moments
of pleasure

Babes,
I’m a suicide case suited to you
and unpacked I found the light lit
with a match struck off the inside
of your thighs
and the outside of my face
-graze graced
we have that spark
that sandpaper charm

and it’s a true flame
not a lighter, perfect photo finish
or electric heater

just real unphotoshopped people
ugly in places
but smoothed out rubbed down
and repainted
in our own time

let’s go on holiday somewhere shit

so we can reminisce
about the good times
rather than try to recreate them

without realising we

distil nostalgia to be bottled up and aged
lying-in beds made only to be unmade
by making

not a vivid memory,
just a contribution to the bank
to something worth saving up for
that feeling
that we’re happy.

Unbuckle your bra strap
and I won’t wear socks to bed
and we’ll feel sexy for the effort
even though

we’re probably not.

And I’ll kiss you then snore
like a trumpet playing an ode to us
us happy unperfect perfectly happy us