I wrote this for you on a used plate
That once held hot pizza at four AM.
It was all I had
At the time.
My ink is having trouble staying
Colliding with old emotions in the form of grease.
But I managed to pierce deep enough to leave an impression on you
The curves of the plate,
Contours of cheeks
And the way your laughter
As our bodies danced
To worship their Creator
Moving by force unknown
Like the pen being pushed across this makeshift papyrus.