how we sleep

you and i,
we sleep "like two ships passing in the night" .
maneuvering quietly
with un-calculated weight
careful not to touch at all,
knowing that one tiny scrape
one shoulder to another
fingers slipping along the back
will spring some innocent leak.
which, as little leaks do,
burgeons
as the ocean presses inward.

already we are pressing into opposite horizons.
the distance pulling out in strands between us
as we push through the oily black ether
the leviathans sliding beneath, keeping time
with the rhythm of sighs and heartbeats.

some nights i turn back
with some sticky sinking feeling.
and i just want to brush into you,
scrape against your skin
opening small fissures along the way.
some nights i just want something to break open
wide open.
i want it to all rush in like catastrophe
because sometimes
i think it would be easier to sink
than float alone on top.