for the girl with freckles on her face

you’re dripping, we’re laying on our backs, eyes open, evaporated
a warped stain on the ceiling
you’re here
you’re right here
and i’m clinging to you like water and
i taste you in the spit in my mouth
and you’ve decided that my name is yours
so i guess you don’t hate me.
and i guess i didn’t ruin it, at least
forever isn’t dripping on our faces.
you let me take you in
until there is nothing left
but the stain in the ceiling
and i wonder if you also feel
the ridges of the plaster with your tongue
and think of me