Day Two Early in the dark of morning, I lay awake in a bed that isn’t mine. Isn’t ours. Tangled in the strange sheets That smell like you and me; Your body’s heat lingers in this bed we’ve made. Your touch still plays along my skin. My smile remains like you. Unwilling to quickly leave this place. I think of all the words felt between us We’ve forced ourselves to swallow And whisper them into the impression You’ve left upon my tongue. I show great care as to not mix them with today’s words; Words which fall like droplets, soft onto the sheets. The sheets we will never sleep on again. This way that is between us; I can barely touch, Can hardly shape into our hands. A thumb bruise colors my cheek; From the rough stuff tho’, nothing harsh. We’re just freaky like that. Later, in the glaring bathroom mirror; Travel soaps on the counter next to my lipstick; Soldiers in a line. I tap concealer on my skin. Thinking I can once again become invisible. You are my only part of the rest of the world. You and the intimate play Said guaranteed to come Upon my returning to the bed we’ve made. The bed that isn’t ours.
Posted on: Sat, 29 Jun 2013 11:32:14 +0000
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