Motel Sheets

Folds and folds 

of white linen

strewn about 

two bodies.

Motel sheets 

that litter the carpet 

and burn my memory.

A sea of white

in which I lost myself.
Salt tears that fell down

my cheeks and stained

themselves into the cloth.

"This is wrong.

Why is this wrong?”

A man who was 

just a boy.

A girl who had 

to grow up fast.

We killed ourselves

in between two thin blankets 

and with words we didn’t mean.