I fold my dreams into corners of cotton,
lying alone in perfume stained sheets.
The night hums low, like a record forgotten,
playing your name on repeat.

Love was a crane I tried to fashion
from motel linens and lullaby lies
but paper hearts don't beat with passion
and are torn apart without goodbyes.

You held me like a secret stanza,
lips inked with things you wouldn't say.
Each kiss a promise in italics,
each embrace in soft decay.

We were origami, darling;
beautiful, but each fold unraveled in the end.
I search for you in the creases of craving,
In pursuit of our love again.