Your Face Looks Better Between My Problems
My inbox looks like a crime scene, red flags everywhere
bills stacked high enough to block the sun
I’ve got five voicemails from numbers I pretend I do not know and a brain replaying every bad decision I have ever run
The sink is full, the fridge is empty
the bed is made for once but feels like a front set for a breakdown trap
Then you pop up on my screen, asking nothing deep
just “you up
” and my whole nervous system jumps the gap.
I know I should be fixing my life, making calls
updating resumes
dealing with the family chat I have muted for weeks
Instead I am picturing your mouth, your hands
the way your laugh climbs when I say something filthy between the peaks
You knock on my door fifteen minutes later, hair messy
eyes bright
wearing that jacket I always want to peel off first
And suddenly every disaster in this room fades into background fuzz behind one very immediate thirst.
Your face looks better between my problems
right there in the middle of all the shit I have not handled yet
Knees on my mattress, fingers in my hair
blocking out the student loans and the emails and the unpaid debt
I know you are not a cure
you are a distraction with a wicked smile and a tongue I cannot forget
But damn if the view of you leaning over me is not the best break my nervous system ever gets.
You ask the bare minimum questions—”you alright
” “need water
” “want to talk”—and I give half-answers between kisses and sighs
‘Cause if I start listing everything that is on fire in my life
we will never make it to the part where I close my eyes
You read the room just well enough to know when to push
when to stop
when to crack a dumb joke about my dying fern
You are not trying to fix me
you are just giving my brain a ninety-minute vacation from watching the world burn.
I used to shame myself for this
for mixing sex and avoidance like a shot I cannot stop taking when it is late
Then I realized sometimes a body needs pleasure before the mind has the strength to carry the weight
I can call the bank tomorrow; tonight I just want your thighs as my only fate.
Your face looks better between my problems
right there in the middle of all the shit I have not handled yet
Knees on my mattress, fingers in my hair
blocking out the student loans and the emails and the unpaid debt
I know you are not a cure
you are a distraction with a wicked smile and a tongue I cannot forget
But damn if the view of you leaning over me is not the best break my nervous system ever gets.
After
when the sweat cools and reality staggers back in with its paperwork and overdue glare
You trace circles on my ribs and ask which fire hurts worst
offer to sit with me while I make the call and stay in the chair
That is the part that kills me
the way you switch from filthy to kind without making it weird
Just mutter “fuck, that sucks, I got you
” and hand me my phone like nothing’s to be feared.
Yeah, your face looks better between my problems
but it is pretty good beside them too
Sitting on this broken couch while I handle hold music and wait times with your leg pressed against mine all the way through
You are not my solution, you are the soft, hot
curse-laced intermission between acts of shit I actually have to do
Your face looks better between my problems
but the truth is I like it best when you stay after them too.
One day I might have fewer fires and more clean floors and less late night panic in my chest
Till then, come over when you can—my life is a wreck
but you between my problems is still the best.