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Start from the end and work backwards;
Reaching for the comfort of his fingers in mine, finding only the creases left in the blankets by our vain attempts to fall in love. Waking up alone is made more painful by my groping hands. Later; asleep, with toes touching but faces turned towards the wall, I dream of Jolly Rogers while he dreams of red leather shoes and his father’s tobacco-scented towelling robe. His cold hand on my shoulder kneads my secrets out, and, sobbing, we confess to crimes we wish we could commit. At midnight he pulls me to my feet and we race to the open doors, avoid the stars, and stare at water reflecting sky reflecting water reflecting sky. I can't call out his name, and he cannot call out mine, so we moan softly as we pretend that we don't ache for a family to which we could return. My fingers stumble their way along his back, stroking and scratching and please let's die like this, and I sting his neck with a cold, weeping ice cube. There's only my oversized gown, slipping from my shoulders, and his warm breath in my ear.

Start from the beginning and work forwards;
There's only my oversized gown, slipping from my shoulders, and his warm breath in my ear. My fingers stumble their way along his back, stroking and scratching and please let's die like this, and I sting his neck with a cold, weeping ice cube. I can't call out his name, and he cannot call out mine, so we moan softly as we pretend that we don't ache for a family to which we could return. At midnight he pulls me to my feet and we race to the open doors, avoid the stars, and stare at water reflecting sky reflecting water reflecting sky. His cold hand on my shoulder kneads my secrets out, and, sobbing, we confess to crimes we wish we could commit. Later; asleep, with toes touching but faces turned towards the wall, I dream of Jolly Rogers while he dreams of red leather shoes and his father’s tobacco-scented towelling robe. Waking up alone is made more painful by my groping hands. Reaching for the comfort of his fingers in mine, finding only the creases left in the blankets by our vain attempts to fall in love.

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