The Secrets You Wrote On My Back Poem by Geof Lusins

radiating towards us, orange waves of warmth
In a room no bigger than a car, just enough room for a bed
you whispered "one day" onto my back

Gently moving towards us, an invisible stream of cool
In a room no bigger than two cars, enough room for a bed, and a desk
you whispered "one day" onto my back

The innocence of an open window, choosing when to cool us down
In a room we decorated ourselves, evenly spaced picture frames
You whispered "one day" on my back

Consistently humming towards us, a frosty breath of ice
in a room no bigger than a house, plenty of furniture and pictures framed of "us"
you whispered "today" on my back

occasionally blowing towards me, oscillating in a corner
in a room with a single bed, clothes dead across on the floor
you don't whisper anything, you are, at best a reminder not to trust