the first night in a new bed

the first night in a new bed

there are secrets within secrets
in the folds of sheets, even in the sparks between us.
each moment means histories and
more moments, layered and entangled: confused, jumbled,
an awkward breath, an eyelid kiss
as we sink into a mattress a little too soft
thinking of the fingerprints we'll make against each others skin tonight

here we are, finally falling
and I wonder, in these moments, do you fall into us
into the creases in my neck, the motions and emotions,
the tilt of my head and yours when you lean into me
the gentle tease of my lips against your forehead
into our touch and understand the touch
do you fall into the moment?
because I don’t. I fall into the moments, the layers upon layers,
the secrets within secrets, our histories and happenings
that make this moment awkward and alien.
it’s the first night in a new bed
and my heart is aching from old beds, crumpled sheets
and t-shirts in a heap on the floor
remember when everything froze to acknowledge—
giggling at 4 am?
there we lay, talking in abstractions
hush, shhh… we believed whispering would make us last longer
those sheets remain static in my mind, but we all know
they have new indentations
so I try to fall into this moment and ignore
the uncomfortable silence of heartbeats racing, a little too fast.