Some Evenings We

Some evenings we,
the smallest of creatures,
want nothing more than to squeeze in tighter,
to make ourselves smaller,
to wrap arms and fold ourselves over one another,
to tuck ourselves into all our secret places
and hold on for dear life.
At that moment all we are
are vital signs performing primary functions,
we're breath and sweat and blood and semen,
a mess of flesh,
every action a dedication
to the one we share ourself with.