Thursday, February 4, 2016

morning journal

oh, my love
your sweater on the wall hook
is a ghost in the early morning hours
I wanted to wear it
but I left it there like a monument
I wanted to ask you to stay
but my mind was sleepy
my skin is cold without yours
my fear intact because in morning
light its a little harder to see
the faultlines
all I feel for you is still safely
inside of me
for now
the fireplace is still warm
our wine glass half full
interrupted by a ripe midnight
moment where our breathing
was perfect songs
the night 
was ransomed too soon
as rain washed away 
your footsteps at dawn

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