I am sitting on our second-hand couch
legs tucked under me, book in my lap
I am only half-reading.
I have two drinks on the bookshelf next to me
One hot and soothing, one cold and intoxicating
It felt like a night for both.
Slightly after midnight I hear her key in the apartment lock
She closes the door behind her, and drops her high-heeled boots on the floor
She looks tired.
She smells like breath-mint and gin (the dancing kind)
I smell like peppermint tea and gin (the half-reading kind)
We don’t need to talk.
I move to make a space for her next to me, and she sits
We gaze at the front window that looks over the apartments that look over the river,
its frame a rainbow string of Christmas lights.
We bask in their jeweled light
My tea grows cold in our shared peace, and I don’t mind
I move her hands from her lap, and lay my head