parallelogram

morning leans, fresh against
the sheets
pressing us into our bodies,
their cartoonish unfolding.  
creases my face lately keeps, weathered  
and worn as the lines now so obvious between 
us. 
two no longer touching. 
we grew it first out of love 
only to watch it, untamed, outgrow us.
the vessel bent too far out of shape 
from what bloomed too large inside 
and died
broke what was meant to hold it.
the death met, our shared
unyielding.