Fork

January 26th, 2012 § Leave a Comment

“Good morning.”
No amount of greeting
Equals your face in mine
Enough to eat for the dawn

Sheets unrolled
Creases and crinkles
On our faces
Imprinted by the sheets

I wake up to no one this morning
Strangeness;
Hear heavy breathing hopefully
Then get lost in missing
You, I guess I have to wait
Until
I get through
Hell.

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