Monday, January 25, 2010

We tread careful.

Wrapped in flannel sheets.
Just barely touching.
Opposite cheeks in our pillows.
Dream-eyes fixed on different walls.
Two sides to this bed.
I will make you coffee in the morning.
You might make me eggs.
Or perhaps I will let this go and
slip into the earliest gray veil of morning
before you know I'm gone.

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