See You

The notes we pass each other creak  
in the floorboards. I haven’t talked   

to a single soul most days. I’m too deep  
inside the color of your irises. 

I am trapped with the snapshots.   

In a moment of weakness,  
I let you have them.  

I’m sorry  

I was drunk and naked. Piano keys  
instead of sanity   

covering the moans.  

My paper crinkles. I can feel  
you moving closer   

to my outstretched hands  
Knee-kisser,   

heart-stealer, how long? 

DAKOTA SMITH

Dakota Smith (she/her) is a poet, performance artist, and writer who received her MFA from Randolph College. Her work can be found in The Rumpus and Good River Review. She lives in New York City.