Would you come again
to the room, infinitely
dark, dingy,
cobwebbed,
with dusty cupboards,
soiled sheets, faded drapes,
frosted windowpanes,
a malfunctioning AC? —
The room tapering off
into leaking faucets,
a cracked washbasin,
stained towels,
with rusty nails functional enough
to hang clothes on –
all masquerading as
a murky paradise,
a retreat for our hairy bodies
that we rub and cling
together, shedding
our scaly skin, hair,
body cells, fingernails —
Shedding skin vigorously
till blood leaches
and the veins stand out, throbbing.

Would you come again
to this smutty paradise
to be reborn
as the love that was Us?