We take a cup together and we drink away the nothingness

I think up something clever turn to you and end our ‘loveless’ tryst

by copying the weather and spitting out “I’m loving this”

Your hands under my sweater they grab me with a subtle grip

I press into you then and feel the softness of your supple lip

The mess of dew within I grab my drink and take a couple sips

Our prescient sin emboldened by our drunkenness

I Confess I can’t contend with how I feel upon this sunken ship

I wonder out loud “what happens when the storm is over?”

When we cease to drown and we’re forced to form sober

thoughts? Will we return to the nothingness

from which we sought this ‘loveless’ tryst?

I’m scared that you’ll still love me, I’m scared that you won’t anymore

I say we stay underwater and refuse to swim ashore

Don’t call me your compatriot,

I live in a nation of my own

I am alone, 

and any invitation I receive to socialize comes 

written in red ink like the “words of the messiah”

There is an embargo on all trade within my nation 

and it’s signed 

with that same red ink

My nation is running out of resources,

the government employees write to neighboring nations seeking aid

The citizens’ options are limited and they trust the fancier pen 

despite the bad handwriting

Soon my nation is deserted

and my memory of it rests

in a plein-air painting of its coastline

It hangs above our breakfast nook