As morning takes its first breaths, I lie
awake, rustling the sheets in my restlessness.
I can hear the world stir, but you
keep sleeping and as the still sunshine
stares through the shutters’ slits,
I think about how sweet it would be to
stay nestled in this cocoon of spring,
when the lines of our bodies begin to blur
and our silhouettes are seductively unfamiliar.

I lie like this in the mushroom grey light
until, backwards as usual, I fall alseep
to the lullaby of your alarm.


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

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