I read Camus
in your bathtub
on our second date.
You draw the water too hot
but I sit in it anyway,
my skin burning.
Outside,
the world decides
to light itself on fire
but being with you
helps me to forget.
I notice that there is black mold
growing on your bathroom ceiling,
but I keep forgetting
to ask you about it.
Instead,
I imagine plucking the spores off
one by one,
passing them from my tongue
to yours.
They blossom inside of us
into a beautiful,
flowering colony.
Our love exponentially
multiplies.
Outside,
there is an entire world
that I have forgotten
how to see
but being with you
reminds me
that there are still reasons
to keep my eyes open.
In the shower,
I raise my arms
and let you wash me
in the places that I am sure
are not dirty,
but all I can think is that I want you
to make me clean again.
Outside,
there is an entire world
that remains closed
but being with you
reminds me that
cracking yourself open
is the only way to grow.