I falter
in your gaze.
Thoughts skip themselves,
cedar, coffee, cinnamon,
I’m caught—
as though in quicksand.
As one might sink into
a beam of sun
after a journey through the cold

There’s a pause—
you see it, don’t you?
How I linger, in that heat.

You have my attention.
My pulse,
every goddamn breath

I think you know it.
And I think I hate you for it