7 AM

I wake with your breath in the crook of my neck,
Your warm hands tracing patterns on my skin.
There will be time for words but not now, not now,
I listen to the early morning din.

You are sleepier than I; you murmur
As you dream behind half-lidded eyes –
Your lips still hold the shape of last night’s smile.
Soon the world will call us, and I must rise
To greet the sun, fold sheets, and go away.

Beyond your blinds, the cold clear light of day.


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